Summary

Portrait of Randall Parrish Randall Parrish Wolves of the Sea — VII. The Lieutenant Unmasked (1918)

All my preconceived impressions of Sanchez had vanished; he was no longer in my imagination a weakling, a boastful, cowardly bravado, a love-sick fool; but a leader of desperate men, a villain of the deepest dye—the dreaded pirate, Black Sanchez, whose deeds of crime were without number, and whose name was infamous. Confronted by Fairfax's ill-guarded gold, maddened by the girl's contemptuous indifference, no deed of violence and blood was too revolting for him to commit. What he could not win by words, he would seize by force and make his own.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Randall Parrish Randall Parrish Wolves of the Sea — VII. The Lieutenant Unmasked (1918)

Estada hesitated, as though afraid to further question his chief, yet finally, in spite of this fear, the query broke from his lips.
"And you, Senor—the girl?"
"What know you of any girl?"
"That there was one on the deck of the sloop—an English beauty. It was when you turned to greet her that you gave me the signal. I merely thought that perhaps—"
"Then stop thinking," burst forth Sanchez enraged. "Thinking has nothing to do with your work. If there is a girl, I attend to her. Let that suffice. Dios! am I chief here, or are you?
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Randall Parrish Randall Parrish Wolves of the Sea — VII. The Lieutenant Unmasked (1918)

I merely remembered that the bluff rose rather steeply from the water's edge, the path leading upward toward the house crowning the summit, turning and twisting in order to render the climb easier, and finally vanishing entirely as it approached the crest. Beside this, leading downward straight to the shore end of the wharf, was the broad slide, along which the bales and hogsheads of tobacco were sent hurtling on their way to market.
Source: Wikisource

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