Captain Cereno coughed suddenly and almost collapsed. He fell heavily against his body servant. «His mind wanders,» said Babo. «He was thinking of the disease that followed the gales. My poor, poor master. Be patient senor, these attacks do not last long. Master will soon be himself.» Don Benito recovered, and in a broken voice continued his story. «My ship was tossed about many days in storms off Cape Horn. And then there was an outbreak of scurvy. The disease carried off many whites and blacks. Most of my surviving seaman had become so sick that they could not handle the sails well. For days and nights we could not control the ship. It was blown north-westward. The wind suddenly left us in unknown waters with oppressive hot calms. Most of our water was gone. And we suffered terribly, especially after a deadly fever broke out among us. Whole families of blacks and many Spaniards, including every officer but myself, were killed by the disease.» Don Benito paused. He looked down at the black man at his side. Babo seemed satisfied. The Spanish captain saw him take his hand from the knife hidden under his shirt.