Poole re-focussed the binocular, but it was some moments before he spoke.

"Can't you?" cried Fitz excitedly.

"Yes, but I'm not quite sure. Yes, now I am. Right!"

For at that moment a white ball of smoke shot out from the gunboat's deck, followed by a dull thud, and something came skipping over the heaving sea, before there was another sharp crack and a shell burst about a hundred yards from the schooner's stern.

"I wonder whether we shall have to go any nearer," said Poole excitedly. "They'd be able to do us a deal of mischief like that. I believe she's got four of those small guns on board."

"Judging from their gunnery," said Fitz coolly, "they are not likely to hit us, even if we go much more near."

"Well, I hope not," said Poole. "Those are nasty waspish things, those shells. There she goes again. I wonder whether we could do anything with rifles at this range."

The skipper proved to be of opinion that they could, but he preferred to devote all his attention to the navigation of the schooner, and in fact there was plenty to do, for every now and then they found themselves dangerously near the spots where a little creamy foam showed upon the surface of the sea, insidious, beautiful patches that would have meant destruction to the slight timbers of the yacht-like craft.

But the mate was perched up on high, and between him and the steersman the skipper stood ready to transmit the keen chief officer's signals to the man at the wheel, so that they rode in safety through the watery maze, paying no heed whatever to the shells which came at intervals from the gunboat's deck, the small modern guns having a terribly long range. The boats filled with men still hung from the davits, ready for the order to start, which was never given, the captain of the gunboat evidently being of opinion that his rowing men would not be able to compete with the schooner's sails, and waiting as he was for the bursting of some shell overhead bringing down one of the important spars by the run, while it was always possible that the schooner's fate might be the same as his, to wit, running stem on to some rock, to sink or remain fast.

Under these circumstances the boats would have been of avail, and another attempt might have been made to board and take the little schooner.

But the Spaniards' gunnery was not good enough; the shells were startling, but their segments did no worse than speckle the surface of the sea, and at last involuntarily cheers rang out, for the Teal was running swiftly away from the danger, and the shells that came dropping were far astern. About half-an-hour later, and long after the firing had ceased to be dangerous, the mate came down from his eyrie, to seat himself and begin wiping his dripping face.

"You look tired, Mr Burgess," said Fitz, going up to him, "Shall I get you a tin of water?"

"Thank you, my lad," said the rugged fellow huskily. "I am nearly choked with thirst."

Fitz ran to the breaker, took the tin that stood ready, dipped it, and bore it to the mate, who drained it to the last drop.

"Thank you, my lad. That's the sweetest drop I ever tasted in my life. Hard work for the body will make a man thirsty, but work like that I have just been doing is ten times as bad. Hah! It's horrid!—horrid! I believed I knew that channel pretty well, but for the last hour, and every minute of it, I have been waiting to hear the little schooner go scrunch on to some hidden rock; and now I feel quite done."

"It must have been horrible," said the middy, looking his sympathy. "Of course we all knew it was dangerous, but none of us could have felt like that."

"No, my lad," said the mate, holding out his rough hand. "I don't believe anybody felt like that," and he gripped the boy's hand firmly. "But I say, between ourselves, I didn't mean to speak. It's made me feel a little soft like, and I shouldn't like anybody to know what I said."

"You may trust me, Mr Burgess," said the lad warmly.

"I do, my lad; I do, for I know what a gentleman you are. But to nobody, please, not even to young Poole."

The rough mate nodded his satisfaction as he met the middy's eyes, and somehow from that minute it seemed to Fitz that they had become great friends.

"Now, that's what I call the prettiest view we've seen of that gunboat yet, Mr Burnett, sir," said the carpenter a short time later, as the lad strolled up to where he was leaning over the bulwarks shading his eyes from the sun. "I don't profess to be a artist, sir; nighest I ever come to making a picter was putting a frame round it and a bit of glass in front, as I kep' in tight with brads. But I've seen a deal of natur' in my time, hot and cold, and I say that's the prettiest bit of a sea-view I ever set eyes on. She's a fine-built boat—nice shape. Looks like about half-way between a flat-iron and one of them as the laundresses use with a red-hot thing in their insides. But it ain't only her shape as takes my fancy. It's her position, and that's one that everybody on board must admire, as she lies there nice and distant with the coast behind, sea in front, and a lovely bit of foam and breakers both sides. Ah! she makes a lovely pictur'. She don't want no frame, and the beauty of her is that she's one of them what they used to call dissolving views. You see, we shan't see her no more, and don't want to, and that's the beauty of it."

"Yes, you're right, Chips," said Poole, laughing. "We've seen rather too much of her as it is. But you are a bit wrong. I dare say we shall see her again. Don Ramon will be for trying to get her off the rocks when he hears how she lies. Why, Chips, that's in your way. What a job it would be for you!"

"Job for me, sir?" said the man, staring.

"Yes. That gunboat and her fittings must have cost a tremendous sum of money. It would be the making of you if you could get her off."

The carpenter stared, and then gave his thigh a slap which sounded like the crack of a revolver.

"Yuss!" he cried. "I never thought of that. My word, shouldn't I like the job!"

"Think you could do it, Chips?" cried Fitz.

"I'd try, sir. Only let 'em give me the job. But the skipper wouldn't let me go."

"Well, you don't want to go, Winks," said Poole.

"That's a true word, sir. I don't want to go. The Teal's good enough for me. But I should like to have the getting of that gunboat off all the same. Let's see; that there Don Ramon wants it, doesn't he?"

"Yes," cried Poole.

"I say, look out!" cried Fitz. "Here's Chips's dissolving view dissolving away."

The declaration was quite true, for the gunboat was slowly disappearing, as the Teal sailed on, to reach Velova Bay without further adventure or mishap.

All seemed well as they sighted the port, and Don Ramon's flag was fluttering out jauntily; but to the astonishment of all on board, as they drew nearer the fort there was a white puff of smoke, and then another and another.

The British colours were run up, but the firing went on, and the skipper grew uneasy.

"Villarayo must have captured the place," he said, as he looked through his double glass.

"Here, I don't see any shot striking up the water, father," cried Poole.

"No; I tell you what it is," cried Fitz. "They are glad to see us back. They are firing a salute."

Fitz was right, and before long a barge was coming off, with the national colours trailing behind, Don Ramon being made out seated in the stern-sheets in uniform, and surrounded by his officers. He looked ceremonious and grand enough in his State barge, but there was no ceremony in his acts. He sprang up the side as soon as the coxswain hooked on, and embraced the skipper with the tears in his eyes, the two lads having to suffer the same greeting in turn, so as not to hurt the feelings of one whose warmth was very genuine.

"Oh, my friend the captain," he cried, "I have been wasting tears on your behalf. You did not come back, and the news was brought by three different fishing-boats that the enemy had driven you ashore and wrecked and burned your beautiful schooner, while there had been a desperate fight, they said, and they had heard the firing, so that I could only guess what must have been the result. I believed my brave true friend and all on board had been slain, while now I have you all safely back again, and my heart is very glad."

"And so am I, Don Ramon," said the skipper warmly, for he felt how genuine the greeting was. "But things are much better than you thought."

"Yes, better far," cried the Don. "But make haste. Let us get ashore. My people are getting up a banquet in your honour and that of every one on board."

"Oh, I'm not a banqueting man," said the skipper, laughing.

"Ha, ha! We shall see," said the Don, laughing in his turn. "How came they, though, to tell me such false news? I believed the men who brought it could be trusted."

"Well, I dare say they can be," said the skipper. "But they didn't stay long enough. We had almost to run ashore, and there were two or three fights; that was true enough. But if they had stayed long enough they could have brought you the best news that you have had for months."

"Best news!" cried the Don excitedly.

"Yes; the gunboat, with her big breech-loader and propeller disabled, is fast upon the rocks."

"Captain Reed!" cried the Don, seizing him by both hands. "Is this true?"

"As true as that I am telling you."

"But the captain and his men?"

"They're standing by her. But they will never get her off."

"Oh!" shouted Fitz, giving a sudden jump and turning sharply round, to see the carpenter backing away confused and shamefaced, for he had been listening eagerly to the conversation, and at the critical point alluding to the gunboat being got off, he had in his excitement given Fitz a vigorous pinch.

"Here, what are you thinking of doing?" said the skipper.

"Doing?" said the Don excitedly. "There will be no banquet to-night. I must gather together my men, and make for the gunboat at once."

"What for?" cried the skipper.

"To strike the last blow for victory," cried the Don. "We must surround and take the gunboat's crew, and then at any cost that gunboat must be floated. I don't quite see yet how it is to be done, but the attempt must be made before there is another gale. That gunboat must be saved. No," he continued thoughtfully, "I don't see yet how it can be done."

"I do, sir," cried Winks, dashing forward. "I'll take the job, sir, and do it cheap. Say a word for me, skipper. You know me. It's fust come fust served at times like this. Say a word for me, sir, afore some other lubber steps in and gets the job as won't do it half so well. Mr Burnett, sir—Mr Poole, you will put a word in too, won't you?"

"I do not want any words put in," said the new President gravely. "I know you, my man, and what you can do. I know you too as one of the friends who have fought for me so bravely and so well. You shall get the gunboat off the rocks."

In his excitement Chips did the first steps of the sailor's hornpipe, but suddenly awakening to a sense of his great responsibility, he pulled himself up short with a sharp stamp upon the deck, thrust his right fore-finger into his cheek, and brought it out again plop.

"Stand by there, sir! Steady it is. I like things right and square. I never did a job like this afore; but you trust me, and I'll do my best."

"I do trust you," said Don Ramon, smiling and holding out his hand, "and I know such a British seaman as you will do his best."

The carpenter flushed like a girl and raised his hand to grasp the President's, but snatched his own back again to give it three or four rubs up and down, back and front, upon the leg of his trousers, like a barber's finishing-touch to a razor, and then gave the much smaller Spanish hand such a grip as brought tears not of emotion but of pain into the President's eyes.

"Now then, for the shore!" cried the Don. "But, Captain Reed, my friend, I am never satisfied. You will help me once again?"

"You know," replied the skipper, "as far as I can."

"Oh, you will not refuse this," said the President, laughingly. "It is only to transport as many of my people as the schooner will bear. I shall have to trust to fishing-boats and the two small trading vessels that are in the port to bear the rest, I must take a strong force, and make many prisoners, for not one of the gunboat's crew must escape."

"Oh, you won't have much trouble with that," said the skipper. "Once you have the full upper hand—"

"I have it now," said the Spaniard haughtily.

"Then they will all come over to your side."

"You will come with me ashore?" said the Don.

"Yes; but when shall you want to sail? To-morrow—the next day?"

"Within an hour," cried the Spaniard, "or as soon after as I can. I must strike, as you English say, while the iron is in the fire."

"Well, that's quick enough for anything," whispered Fitz.

The two lads stood watching the departing barge, with the skipper by the President's side, and then turned to go aft to the cabin.

"This is rather a bother," said Fitz. "I should have liked to have gone ashore and seen the banquet, and gone up the country. I am getting rather sick of being a prisoner, and always set to work. But—hullo, Chips!"

"Just one moment, sir; and you too, Mr Poole."

"Yes; what is it?"

"That's rather a large order, gentlemen, aren't it? That there Don will be wanting to make me his chief naval constructor, perhaps. But that wouldn't do. I say, though, Mr Burnett, sir, can you give a poor fellow a tip or two?"

"What about?" said Fitz.

"What about, sir? Oh, I say, come! I like that! How am I going to get off that there gunboat? She's a harmoured vessel, you know."

"Oh, you'll do it, Chips. You could always do anything, even when you hadn't got any stuff. What about pulling up the hacienda floor?"

"To make fortifications, sir? Yes, we did work that to rights. But iron's iron, and wood's wood. You can drive one into t'other, but you can't drive t'other into one."

"No, Chips," said Fitz, laughing. "But there are more ways of killing a cat than hanging."

"So there are, sir; toe be sure. Making up your mind to do a thing is half the battle. I should like to have the help of you two young gents, though, all the same. A word from a young officer as knows how to disable a Armstrong gun, and from another who thinks nothing of tying a screw-propeller up in a knot, is worth having."

"Oh, I'll help you," said Fitz. "But I am afraid my help won't be of much use."

"The same here," said Poole. "Ditto and ditto."

"Then I shall do it, sir," cried the carpenter confidently. "Of course," cried Fitz. "But that gunboat must be very heavy. How shall you go to work?"

The carpenter gave a sharp look round, and then said in a low confidential tone—

"A deal too heavy, sir, for us to lift her. The only way to do is to make her lift herself."

"How?"

"Taking out of her everything that can be moved; guns first, then shot and shell, and laying them overboard outside upon the rocks, ready for hoisting in again at low water when she's afloat. Next thing I should do would be to find out whether she's got any holes in her, and if she hasn't—and I don't believe she has, for there's been no storm to bump her on the rocks—then I shall pump her dry, have her fires got up, and at high water full steam ahead, and if she don't come off then I'm a double Dutchman."

"But what about the screw?"

"Them as hides can find, sir, which means them as tie can untie. I think we can get her off, sir, if we put our backs into it. What say you?"

"Get her off?" cried Fitz. "Of course we will!"



CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

BOARDING THE GUNBOAT.

That evening, followed by a heterogeneous fleet of about twenty small vessels crammed with fighting men, the Teal sailed again, and their time of arrival was so contrived that dawn of the next morning but one found the little fleet in delightfully calm weather forming a semi-circle from one point of the shore to the other, the focus of its radius being formed by the gunboat on the rocks.

The plans had been made on the voyage, and as there was plenty of water for every vessel but the schooner, the latter's boats, well filled with men, alone accompanied the rest.

It was an attack, but no defence, for as soon as the crew of the gunboat realised the formidable nature and numbers of the expedition, they took to the boats to try and escape to the shore. But the cliffs forbade this, and after another attempt or two to get away, all surrendered and gave up their arms, ready, as had been predicted, to begin cheering Don Ramon, the officers as they gave up their swords humbly asking to be allowed to retain their positions under the new Government, for there seemed to be a general acceptation of the fact now that the petty war was at an end.

Don Ramon's answer to this was to accept the services of the officers and the best of the men. The rest were boated off to the mouth of the river and set ashore.

"Ornamental, I call it," said Chips, as he sat forward in one of the schooner's boats commanded by Poole, in which, as a matter of course, Fitz had taken his place.

"What is, Chips?" said Poole. "Do you mean your head?"

"My head, sir," said the carpenter, staring. "Well, no, sir, I didn't mean my head. 'Tain't a bad one as it goes, but I never set myself up for a good-looking chap, one of your handsome sort. I allus left that to the Camel here."

The men, who were resting on their oars, burst into a roar of laughter, and the cook laughing as heartily as the rest and displaying his great teeth, but his mirth was silent.

"Hark at him," he said. "Chips is a wonderful man for a joke."

"Nay, and I never set up as a joker either," said the carpenter; "but about this 'ere head of mine, I allus reckoned it was more useful than ornamental. What did you mean was the matter with it, Mr Poole?"

"Oh, only that it was swelled out so since you've been head contractor and engineer-in-chief for the getting the gunboat off the rocks. Doesn't your hat feel very tight?"

"Nay, sir, and you are all wrong, for there's such a breeze here coming off the sea, hitting slap agin the rocks and coming back right in your face, that I have been longing for a piece of paper to fold up and put inside the band of my hat to make it tight. Why I nearly lost it twice."

"Oh," said Poole, "I thought it must be swelled. You've grown so important ever since you took the job."

"Never mind what he says, Chips," cried Fitz, "he's only chaffing you."

"Bless your 'eart, sir," cried the carpenter, "I know: this aren't the first voyage I've had with Master Poole."

"But what do you mean about being ornamental?" said Poole.

"Oh, us Teals, sir, and our boats. Here have we been figuring about holding up our rifles in the sun, and with these here cutlashes getting in the men's way wherever we rowed. Regular ornamental I calls us, never so much as fired a shot or hit any one on the nose with one's fist. We have done a bit of shouting though. I've hooroared till if I had tried to do any more, I should roar like a sick bull in a cow-yard shut up to eat straw, while all the cows were in the next field getting fat on grass. I want to know what's the use of our coming at all!"

"As supporters of the Don," said Fitz; "for prestige."

"For what, sir?"

"Prestige," said Fitz, laughing.

"Oh! that's it, was it, sir? Well, I'm glad you told me. Where does that come in?"

"Why, all through. Shows how English men-of-war's-men have helped to frighten these mongrels into surrender. Haven't you?"

"Well, I dunno about me, sir. I dare say the sight of the Camel there has scared them a bit. Wherever he showed his teeth, they must have said to themselves, 'What a beggar that would be to bite!' And I suppose that made them a bit the readier to chuck it up as they did. But it's just what I said. We Teals have been ornamental all through this job, and I should have liked to have had just one more go in by way of putting a neat finish."

"Oh, you've got job enough coming off," said Poole. "There's your work," and he pointed to the gunboat lying about a quarter of a mile away.

The carpenter became serious directly, frowned severely, laid his coxswain's boat-hook across his knees, and took off his straw hat to give his dewy forehead a couple of wipes with his bare mahogany-brown arms.

"Yes, gentlemen," he said, "that's a big handful for one man, and I feel a bit staggered, and get thinking every now and then that it was the biggest bit of cheek I ever showed in my life."

"What was?" said Fitz.

"What was, sir? Why, to say that I would get that there vessel off them rocks. There are times when I feel skeered, and ready to tuck my tail between my legs and run away like a frightened dog."

"You!" cried Fitz, and the two lads laughed heartily.

"Ah, it's all very fine, gentlemen, you are on the right side. You aren't got it to do. I have, and if I was to try and laugh now it would be on the other side of my mouth."

"Get out," said Poole, "you'll do it right enough. Won't he, Fitz?"

"Of course."

"Think so, gentlemen?"

"To be sure we do," cried Fitz. "You'll do it, Chips. Go in and win."

"Thank you, sir," said the man, rather sadly. "I did say I'd do it, didn't I?"

"To be sure you did."

"Well then, of course I must try."

"To be sure you must," cried Fitz. "Why, you'll be able to do it in broad daylight with nobody to interrupt you."

"So I shall, Mr Burnett, sir. It won't be like swarming up her side in the dark, expecting a couple of dozen of them half-bred niggers to come at you with their long knives ready to pitch you overboard. Here: I am glad you talked. I was getting all in the downs like over that job, when it aren't half so 'ard as for a young gent like you to swarm up that anker, that very one yonder as is hanging from the cat-head now, and then taking out that breech-block and—"

"There, that will do," cried Fitz, turning scarlet; "I don't want to hear any more about that. I say, Chips, how do you mean to begin?"

The carpenter screwed his face up into a very cunning smile.

"Like me to tell you, sir?"

"Of course," cried the boys in a breath.

"Well," said the carpenter, "you are both very pleasant young gents as has allus been good friends to me, and I'd tell you in a minute but for one reason."

"You don't want your messmates to know your plans?" said Fitz quickly.

"Oh no, sir, it's a bigger reason than that. You see, it's just like this 'ere. I'll tell you, only don't let 'em know in the other boat. You see there's Mr Burgess yonder, and old Butters."

"Well, don't make such a rigmarole of it all, Chips," cried Poole. "What's your big reason?"

"Well, sir, it's just this 'ere," said the carpenter solemnly. "I'll be blessed if I know it myself."

"Bah!" cried Poole angrily.

"What I want is clean decks, with all them there trash cleared away, and time for me and the bosun having the craft to ourselves just to go round and smell it all over before we begin."

"Of course," cried Poole.

"You see, it's a big job, gentlemen, and it's no use for us to roosh it. What I want is for us to be able to lay this 'ere boat aboard, and leave to begin. I want room, sir, and to see what tools I want, and—"

"Ahoy there, Mr Poole!" came from the next boat. "Let your men give way and follow me. I am going to board the gunboat now, and put a prize crew on board."

"Ay, ay, sir," cried Poole; and then to the carpenter, who sat moistening his hands prior to giving them a rub on his knees, "There you are, Chips. Give way, my lads. We are going to make fast a tow-rope to the gunboat's stern. Keep your eyes open, and you will see how Chips will haul her off."

There was another laugh as the men bent to their oars, rowing so vigorously that several of the small craft full of Don Ramon's followers, hanging round the ponderous-looking craft upon the rocks, hurriedly made way as if half expecting to be run down, and a few minutes later the schooner's boats, headed by Mr Burgess, were alongside their late dangerous enemy, to spring on board, the Spanish crew drawing back to the other side to crowd together and look carelessly on, all idea of resistance being at an end.



CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.

WINKS'S LUCK.

Neither Fitz nor Poole had felt any desire to pose as the heroes of the little night attack, which had resulted in the disabling of the armoured man-of-war, but it was with a strange feeling of exultation that they climbed on board in the full sunshine, eager as they were to stand once more upon the decks, and see in the broad daylight what the vessel was like into which they had climbed in the darkness of the night.

Fitz's first thought as he passed through the gangway was to make for the great gun that stood amidships upon its iron platform and revolving carriage, the huge muzzle elevated, and looking ready to hurl its great shells far and wide; but he had to wait and stand with the schooner's men drawn up while the prisoners and volunteers who had joined the winning side filed down into the boats that swarmed around, till with one exception the crew had all left the deck, the exception being the firemen, who willy nilly were retained on board for service in connection with the engine under the new President.

All this took time, but at last Don Ramon's dread had become his joy, and he showed his feeling of triumph as he paced the gunboat's deck rubbing his hands, and every now and then giving vent to a satisfied "Hah!" as he stopped to converse with Burgess, or to say a kindly word to one or other of the prize crew, not least to the two boys.

"Hah!" cried the carpenter at last. "Now then, gentlemen, I think we must say going to begin. Here's Mr Burgess as hungry as I am. You would like to come round with us, wouldn't you, Mr Poole? Mr Burgess says we can get to work as soon as ever we like."

"Of course we should," said Poole. "Come on, Fitz;" for just then Don Ramon came up to the mate to make a flowery speech, telling him that he left him in perfect confidence to hold the prize while he went to see to the disposal of the rest of the prisoners who were left, so that no attempt might be made to regain the upper hand.

Poole turned to Fitz expecting to see him eager to follow the carpenter, but it was to find him standing with one foot upon the platform of the great gun, looking at the muzzle, as it sloped toward the sky, evidently deep in thought, and he did not stir until Poole laid a hand upon his arm with the query—

"What are you thinking about?"

"That night," was the reply.

"So was I just now," said Poole. "Look there, that's where I lay with one of the Spaniards holding me down, and afraid to make a sound, or to struggle. It was horrid, and I couldn't tell what sort of a position you were in. It was ticklish work and no mistake."

"Yes," said Fitz, thoughtfully, "horrible for you, but I believe it was worse for me, because something seemed to be tagging at me all the time and telling me that I had no business there."

Poole looked at his companion curiously.

"But you felt that you must do it, didn't you?" he said.

"Oh, yes," cried Fitz, "I was desperate; but I never want to go through such a five minutes again. Let's see, I stepped along there," he continued, pointing and following the steps his memory taught him that he must have taken to get round to the back of the great gun. "Yes, this is exactly where I stood to swing round those great balls and open the breech, but only to be disappointed, finding as I did that the block was fast. Oh, Poole, how I did tug and strain at it, feeling all the while that I had been boasting and bragging to your father, and that after all I was only a poor miserable impostor who had been professing to know a great deal, when I was as ignorant as could be, and that I was being deservedly punished in that terrible failure that was taking place."

"Ah, I remember," cried Poole; "you said the block stuck fast?"

"Yes, till the idea came that I had not turned the great screw far enough."

"But you ought to have made sure of that at first."

"Of course I ought," cried Fitz sharply, "and I ought to have been as cool and calm as possible when doing such a venturesome thing—in the pitch-darkness, with perhaps ten or a dozen of the Spanish sailors—the watch—"

"The watch!" cried Poole, laughing. "Come, I like that."

"Well, then, men lying about all round us. You were perfectly cool of course?"

"I!" replied Poole. "Why I was in a state of high fever. I didn't know whether I was on my head or my heels. I believe, old fellow, that I was half mad with excitement."

"I'm sure I was," cried Fitz, "till the thought came that perhaps I had not turned the screw far enough. That thought made me quite jump. Then there was the feeling the screw move. I felt as if I could see the great thread all shining as it glided along, while I must have seen the block when I lifted it out."

"But that was all fancy of course. It was the darkest, blackest night I ever saw."

"I know, but I certainly seemed to see the block as I held it hugged to my breast."

"I should have liked to see you when you were making for the side all top-heavy, and went flying over after the great quoin as you called it. My word, Fitz, that was a flying leap overboard."

"Ugh!" ejaculated the latter with a shudder. "As I go over the task again, it seems as if it is all part of a queer dream."

"A very lively one though," said Poole, laughing. "I say, I wonder how deep you went down."

"Oh, don't talk about it! Ever so far. It seemed a terribly long time all going down and down, feeling all that time as if I should never come up again, and thinking about sharks too. Why, it couldn't have been half-a-minute from the time I touched the water till I was at the top again swimming, and yet it seemed to be an hour at least."

"It does seem long at a time like that. But I say, what a narrow escape that was."

"Of being caught, yes."

"No, no," cried Poole; "I mean when the breech-block went over the side."

"It just was," said the carpenter, coming up. "I know somebody, gentlemen, who thinks as he had a very narrow squeak of being took down to the bottom with that bit o' steel and kept there. But that would ha' been better than floating up again to be pulled to pieces by the sharks. I don't suppose that they stops much about the bottom o' the sea; they generally seem to be too busy up at top, drying their back-fins in the open air. Trying your little bit o' performance over again, gentlemen?"

"Yes, Chips," said Fitz, as the man stood smiling at him. "It was a horrible night's work."

"Well, no, sir, not horrid. We came out to do something and we did it fine. The on'y awkward bit on it is the risk you ran a-popping that there breech-block on somebody's head, for which miss he's very much obliged—very much indeed. But I came to see if you gents wouldn't like to come down below with us to sound the well, for I expect there's a precious lot o' water there, and a big hole to let it in. Mr Burgess have gone down with Butters."

The two lads hurriedly followed the carpenter below, to encounter the mate and boatswain fresh from their task.

"Deal more water than I like to see, my lads," said the boatswain, "but we shall know better where we stand after that steam-pump has been going for a couple of hours."

"Job for that engineer and his fireman," said the carpenter coolly; and very soon after the panting of the donkey-engine, the rattle of the pump, and the vigorous splashing down of clear water betokened the relieving of the gunboat's lower parts of some portion of their burden, as Poole said, but only to be met by a damping remark from Fitz.

"Not much good," he said, "if the water runs in as fast as it runs out."

As time could be the only test for this, the little party of examiners descended now into one of the schooner's boats, the carpenter standing up in her bows and passing her along to make fast by one of the ringbolts of the stern-post, and giving the two lads a peculiar look as he proceeded to examine the propeller.

"Well, how does it seem?" said the mate.

"Seem, Mr Burgess, sir?" said the carpenter dryly, "don't seem at all, sir. There's nothing here but the biggest ball o' string I ever see. Would you mind coming forard, Mr Butters, sir, and seeing what you can make of it?"

The boatswain passed over the thwarts and joined his comrade of the past night's work, stood looking down for a few moments, and then took off his cap and scratched one ear.

"You young gents had better come and have a look," he said; "you had the designing on it."

The boys did not wait for a second invitation, but hurriedly went forward, to find that their scheme had acted far beyond their expectations, for the fans of the propeller had wound up the thick soft cable so tightly that the opening in which the fish-tail mechanism turned was completely filled with the tightly-compressed strands of rope, so that Poole suggested that all that needed was to get hold of one end, and then as soon as the steam was well on to reverse and wind the cable off in a similar way to that in which it had been wound on.

"Hah, to be sure," said the boatswain, giving his leg a sailor's slap, "there's nothing like a bit o' sense, Mr Poole, sir; that nice noo Manilla cable's been twisted round my heart, sir, ever since it was used, and made me feel quite sore. Nothing I hates worse than waste."

"It wasn't waste," said Fitz, impatiently. "You might just as well say the bait was wasted when you have been fishing. Don't you get something good in return?"

"Ah, but that's fishing, young gentlemen, and this aren't," said Butters, with a very knowing smile.

"Not fishing!" cried Fitz. "I think it was fishing. You used the cable, and you've caught a gunboat."

"But s'pose we've got the gunboat and the bait back as well, how then?" cried the boatswain. "Look ye here, my lad, I'm going to have that there end of the cable taken a turn round the steam-capstan, and as soon as the chaps have got full steam on, the screw shall be turned, and we'll wind it off fine and good as noo."

Fitz shook his head as he gazed down through the clear water at the mass of rope, and exclaimed—

"I know it won't do."

"What, aren't you saddasfied now?" said the boatswain, while Chips wrinkled up his face and looked uneasy.

"Aren't never seen a screw fouled like that afore, along of a coir cable, Mr Fitz, sir, have you?"

"No," replied the middy. "But I've seen a Manilla cable after it's been down with a heavy anchor in a rocky sea off the Channel Islands."

"And how was that, sir?"

"Frayed in half-a-dozen places by the rocks, so that the anchor parted before we'd got it weighed, and the captain was obliged to send for a diver to get the anchor up."

"But there aren't no rocks here, Mr Fitz, sir, to fray this here one, because it has never been down."

"No, but it has been ground against the iron stern-post till it's nearly through in ever so many places. Look there, and there, and there."

"Hah, look at that, bosun," cried the carpenter triumphantly. "Just cast your eye along there and there. Our side's right and the Manilla cable's all wrong. I'm afeard too as we're going to find out a good many other things is wrong, and the gunboat aren't afloat yet."

"No, but you've undertaken to float her, Chips," said Poole. "I wouldn't reckon on being Don Ramon's head naval architect and engineer just yet."

"No, sir, I don't," said the carpenter seriously. "But anyhow we'll set the screw free before we trouble any more about that leakage;" and in a very business-like way he carried out the boatswain's plans, connecting the cable with the capstan, and winding it off; but it was so damaged by grinding against the edges of the opening that it parted five different times before it was all off, to the boatswain's great disgust.

"What have you got to say about the leakage, Mr Burnett, sir?" whispered the carpenter after the cable task was ended, and the fans of the propeller showed clearly in the water just below the surface, and had been set whirling round in both directions to churn up the water, and prove that the shaft had not been wrenched or dragged from its bearings.

"Nothing at present, Chips," replied the middy.

"Because I'd take it kindly, sir, if you'd drop a fellow a hint or two. This is a big job, sir, and means my making or my breaking, sir."

"But you shouldn't ask me, my man," replied the middy. "You are old and experienced, while I'm only a boy."

"Yes, sir, I knows that," said the man; "but you're come out of a gunboat, sir, and you've got your head screwed on the right way, sir. I never see a young gent with such a head as yours, nor yet one as was screwed on so tight."

"Oh, nonsense, Chips," cried the boy, flushing. "It's your job, not mine."

"Nay, sir, it aren't nonsense, it's sound sense. I like a bit of the first as well as any man when larking helps to make hard work go easy. Often enough a bit o' fun acts like ile to a hard job, but it won't ile this one. And as I said afore, sir, I'd take it kindly if you'd put in a word now and then over the rest o' the job same as you did over the cable."

"But you ought to consult with Mr Burgess or the captain, my man," said Fitz, uneasily.

"Nay, I oughtn't, sir. I'd a deal rayther have a word or two from you when you see things going wrong."

"Why?" said Fitz quickly.

"I've telled you, sir. Doesn't all you say come right? I've kinder got a sort o' confidence in you, Mr Burnett, sir, as makes me feel as if I should like to be under you in some ship or another, and I aren't the on'y one aboard as feels that, I'm sure."

"Well, it's very kind of you to put so much faith in me," said the middy; "but don't say any more, please, and don't believe in me too much for fear I should make some horrible blunder, and disappoint you after all."

"Ah, you won't do that, sir," said the carpenter confidently.

"Of course I shall be only too glad to help you if I can, for I should be very glad to see you float the vessel."

"And you will keep an eye on what I do, sir, and put in a word if you think I'm going wrong?"

"If you wish it, yes," replied Fitz.

"Thanky, sir," whispered the man earnestly. "It may be the making of me, sir, and anyhow, as I have took up this job, I don't want these Spaniel chaps to see an Englishman fail."

"They shall not, Chips, if I can help it," cried Fitz, warmly. "There now, let's see whether the donkey-engine is able to keep the water down, or whether she's lower in the water than she was."

"There, sir," whispered the man, "hark at you! Call yourself a boy! why you couldn't ha' spoken better if you'd been a hold man of a 'undered. You made me want to give you a shout, only I had to keep quiet, and let the Spaniels think I'm doing it all to rights. I don't mind about our lads. They all know me, and what I can do and what I can't. I don't want to try anything and chuck dust in their eyes—not me; but I do want to show off a bit and let these Spanish Mullotter chaps see what an Englishman can do, for the sake of the old country and the British flag."

"Then let's go below, Chips," said Fitz, "and see what the pumping has done."

Poole, who had been aft with the mate during this conversation, rejoined them now, and together they went below to sound the well.

"Good luck to us, gentlemen," said the carpenter, rubbing his hands.

"Good luck," cried Poole eagerly. "You don't mean to say she's making less water?"

"Nay, sir, but I do say that the engine's lowering it. There's a foot less in her now than when we began pumping, and that means we win."

A few hours later, after the donkey-engine had kept on its steady pumping, Chips made another inspection, and came up to where Fitz and Poole were together, pulling a very long face.

"Why, what's the matter, Chips?" cried Fitz anxiously. "You don't mean to say that anything is wrong?"

"Horribly, gentlemen," cried the man. "It's always my luck! Chucking away my chances! Why, she's as good as new!"

"Well, what more do you want? Isn't that good enough for you?"

"Yes, sir, it's good enough; but Mr Butters here and me, we was half asleep. We ought to have formed ourselves into a company—Winks and Co., or Butters and Co., or Butters and Winks, or Winks and Butters, or Co. and Co."

"Why not Cocoa and Cocoa?" said Fitz, laughing.

"Anyhow you like, gentlemen, only we ought to have done it. Bought the gunboat cheap, and there was a fortune for us."

"Never mind that," said Poole. "You'll be all right, Chips. Don Ramon will be presenting you with a brass tobacco-box, or something else, if you get her off."

"Go and ast him to order it at once, so as to have it ready, for we shall have her off to-morrow as soon as them 'hogany lubbers have got the steam up."

"You don't mean that?" cried Poole.

"Ask Mr Butters here, and see what he says."

"Yes," said the boatswain coolly; "and I thought we should have to lighten her by a couple of hundred tons or so. But it makes a man feel very proud of being an English sailor. These half-breeds here give up at once. Why, if she'd had an English crew aboard, that cable wouldn't have stopped round the screw, and the lads wouldn't have sat down to smoke cigarettes and holloa. Why, they might have had her off a score of times."

"But what about getting her safely into the channel again?" said Poole.

"What about getting old Burgess aboard to con her; she going slow with a couple of fellows at work with the lead in the chains? Why, it's all as easy as buttering a bit of biscuit."

Not quite, but the next evening the gunboat was well out in deep water, comparatively undamaged, and flying Don Ramon's colours, making her way towards Velova Bay, towing a whole regiment of boats, the Teal proudly leading under easy sail.



CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.

A STARTLER.

"Ah," said Don Ramon to the skipper, the morning after their arrival, "if only that gun were perfect!"

"Well, it ought to be in two months' time. You'll have to get command of the telegraph at San Cristobal."

"To get command?" cried the Don. "I have full command. Resistance to my rule is dead, and I have only to wait to be acknowledged by the Powers. But go on with what you were saying."

"Oh, it was only this. You can wire to the makers of the gun to send you out a new breech-block by the first steamer. They will honour your order, I'll be bound."

"It shall be done," said Don Ramon eagerly.

This took place in the principal building of the little port, where the Don was entertaining the skipper and the two lads; and he seemed quite disturbed when, after a short communication had passed, Fitz and Poole got up and asked their host to excuse them.

"You wish to go so soon?" he said. "Why, I have friends coming to whom I wish to introduce you as the brave young heroes who helped me to success."

"Oh, there's no need for that sir," said Fitz. "We don't want to be made a fuss over."

"But I take it that you would be willing to gratify your host," replied the Don loftily, "and it would please me much if you would stay."

"But we must get back on board, sir," said Fitz anxiously. Then noticing the air of displeasure in the President's countenance, the middy added hastily, "There, sir, we will come back at once."

They hurried down to the shore, where the schooner's gig was lying with her crew on board.

"Well, I don't understand whatever you want," said Poole, "unless you have suddenly found out that because ladies are coming you ought to put on a clean shirt."

"Get out!" cried Fitz; and then, assuming command of the boat, to Poole's great amusement, though he said nothing, Fitz gave orders to the men to give way and row them out to the gunboat.

"Why, I thought you wanted to go to the Teal! Oh, I see. Well, it's very nice of you. You want us to go and take charge of the prize crew so as to let old Burgess go and have some tucker with the Don."

"Nothing of the kind," said Fitz shortly.

"What is it then?" said Poole. "What's the good of keeping things so close?"

"Wait and see. I don't know yet myself."

"Dear me!" said Poole. "I suppose his lordship has found out that he left his purse in the cabin."

"Wrong," said Fitz. "It was only an old leather one if he had, with nothing in it. Can't you wait a few minutes till I see if I am right?"

"Oh, yes, I'll wait; only too glad to get away while the other people come. I say, Fitz, old chap, let's be as long as we can. I do hate all that fuss. It makes me feel so weak."

"Yes; I don't like it. That's the worst of foreigners. They are so fond of show. I say, Poole, old chap, I've got such a grand idea."

"What is it?"

"Wait and see."

"Now, just you look here," said Poole; "you can't say but what I'm a good-tempered sort of fellow, but if there's much more of this you'll put me out. I'm not a little child, and you are not playing at bob-cherry, so leave off dangling nothing before my lips and then snatching it away."

"Ah, you wait and see," said Fitz.

Just then, as Poole turned upon him irritably, the gig touched the gunboat's side, and the boys sprang on board, to be greeted by the mate and the members of the prize crew, who had moored her well under the guns of the little fort.

"Hullo, young fellows! I know what you want," cried the mate.

"Then you are cleverer than I am," said Poole, laughing, "for I don't."

"Then why have you come?"

"Ask Burnett here. He seems to be Grand Panjandrum now."

"You've come," said the mate, "by the President's orders, to bring me ashore to drink wine and eat cake, or some nonsense of that kind, and you may go back and tell him I can't leave my post."

"Wrong," said Fitz; and he hurried away forward, to come into sight again waving his hand to Poole to join him.

"Whatever's the matter with the fellow?" said Poole to himself, as he followed the middy.

Fitz met him half-way, caught him by the collar, and with his face flushed and eyes flashing, whispered something in his ear.

"No!" cried Poole. "You don't mean it!"

"I do," said Fitz, and he whispered a few more words that made his companion stare.

"Shall we?" cried Fitz excitedly.

"Oh, I don't know," replied Poole. "It would make such a scare."

"I don't care," said Fitz. "It will make Don Ramon ready to jump out of his skin. I don't know what he won't say when he gets the news; and besides, I feel as if I had a right."

Meanwhile the people were beginning to arrive to crowd the salle where the President and the skipper were ready to receive them, and the President had risen at once, and amidst a tremendous burst of applause, to begin a speech in which he intended to congratulate his hearers upon the end of the war and the commencement of what he hoped would be a long term of peace, when he and all present were startled by a terrific roar as of thunder close at hand, followed by what seemed like a minute's silence, when the echoes began to speak, carrying on the sound along the valley and up into the mountains, where it rolled and died out, rose again, and was eddied on and on, to finally fade away in a dull whisper.

For the time no one spoke, no one stirred, but stood as if turned to stone, as so many statues where but a few minutes before all was animation and suppressed excitement consequent upon what was looked upon as the successful determination of the revolution.

Upon every face horror was now depicted, cheeks were pale, eyes dilated and staring, and fear with all its horrors seemed to have enchained the crowded salle.

There was one pale face though that seemed to stand out the central figure of the gaily-dressed and uniformed crowd. It was that of the President, who slowly stretched out his hands on high, his fists clenching and his features convulsed. There was no horror there in his looks, but one great reflex of the despair within his heart.

"Oh," he groaned, "and at a time like this, when I have fought so hard, when I would have given up my very life for my unhappy country. Gentlemen, we have a new enemy to contend with, and that is Fate. Am I to own that all is lost, or appeal to you, my faithful friends, to begin again to fight the deadly battle to the very last?"

"But what is it?" cried one of the officials.

"Yes," shouted another, "what does this mean?"

The President smiled bitterly, and stood for a few moments gazing back sadly at his questioners as the crowd began to sway to and fro, some of those present beginning to make for the door, but in an undecided way, and swaying back to press once more upon their leader, as if feeling that he was their only hope.

He seemed to read this in their faces, and suddenly the blood began to flush like a cloud across his pallid brow, nerving him as it were to action.

Throwing his right hand across his breast he sought for the hilt of his sword, which his left raised ready, and he snatched the blade from its scabbard, whirled it on high, and then held it pointed towards the nearest open window, through which a thin dank odoured cloud of smoke was beginning to float, telling its own tale of what the explosion was.

For a few moments the President was silent, rigid and statuesque in his attitude, while his eyes flashed defiance and determination.

"Gentlemen," he cried, "you ask me what this means," and he seemed to flash his glance around the room to take in everybody before letting his eyes rest at last upon the skipper. "It means that the scotched snake has raised its poisoned head once more, how I know not, nor yet what following he hab. But the enemy still lives, and we must fight again to the very death if needs be."

A murmur of excitement ran through the salle, and once more the weak amongst those assembled raised a murmur, and glances were directed towards the door, as if the next moment panic was about to set in and a rush was imminent. At that moment, as if in response to the President's appealing look, the big bronzed skipper, Poole's father, British to the backbone, took a step or two forward, and the President's face lit up with a smile as he uttered a loud "Hah!" full of the satisfaction he felt.

"Silence there," he shouted, directing his words at his wavering followers, whose spirits seemed to have been completely dashed. "Silence, and let our brave captain speak."

"I have only this to say," cried the skipper. "Be calm, gentlemen, be calm. Are we who have carried all before us to be frightened by a noise? It is an explosion. Whatever has happened you must be cool, and act like the brave men you are. This is either some accident, or the cunning enemy has sent in some emissary to lay a train. It is all plain enough. Some of the powder collected in the magazine of the fort has gone. There was a great flash, I saw it myself, and it evidently came from there. Now, President, take the lead. Out with your swords, gentlemen. I don't believe you will need them. Some pounds of gunpowder have been destroyed. Had the enemy been there we should have heard their burst of cheering, and the noise of their coming on, for this place would have been the first they would have attacked."

The skipper's sensible words were greeted with a groan of despair, for at that moment that of which he had spoken came floating in turn through the open window.

"Ah," cried the President, catching at the skipper's arm and gripping it fast as he pointed to the open window with his sword. "Brave words, my friend, but you hear—you hear—" and another murmur of despair ran through the crowd.

"Oh yes," said the skipper, "I can hear."

"The cries," said the President, "of the savage enemy."

"No," roared the skipper with a mocking laugh. "Your enemies, man, can't cheer like that," and he rushed to the window. "There they go again. Why, Don, that's not a Spanish but good old English shout. Yes, there they go again. I don't know what it means, but I can hear, far off as they are, those were the voices of some of my crew."

"What?" cried the President.

"Come here, all of you," cried the captain, "and look out. There's nothing to fear. Follow my lead and give another cheer back. That shouting came from the gunboat deck. Look, Don Ramon, you can see my fellows waving their caps, and those two boys are busy on the bridge doing something, I can't make out what. Yes, I can, they're bending on a flag. There: up it goes. Why, gentlemen, we have been scaring ourselves at a puff of powder smoke. Why, by all that's wonderful—" He stopped short and held up his hand.

"Silence, please," he cried after a pause, and a dead stillness reigned once more as every one who could get a glimpse of the gunboat strained his neck to stare.

"I am stunned, confused," whispered the President. "What is it, captain? For pity's sake speak."

"No, sir, I'll let your best friend do that."

"My best friend? You speak in riddles."

"Yes, wait a minute, and the answer, a big one, to this great riddle will come," cried the captain. "Can't you see, man? the lads are busy there getting ready for your friend to speak. Another moment or two and you will hear what he says—that Don Ramon is President of this Republic, and his seat in the chair is safe against any enemy that may come. Ah, all together. Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!"

The skipper's cheer was loud, but it was stifled before it was half-uttered, for once more that terrific roar arose, making the Presidential building quiver and the glass in several of the windows come tinkling down into the stone-paved court.

Most of those present had this time seen the flash—the roar had set the ears of all ringing once again, as a great puff of smoke dashed out like a ball and then rose slowly in the sunshine, forming itself into a great grey ring, quivering as another burst of cheering arose from the gunboat's deck.

For it was neither attack from the cunning enemy nor the catastrophe caused by explosion, as the fresh burst of cheering from the gunboat fully explained, for they were British cheers from the prize crew, echoed by those on board the schooner.

There was nothing the matter, only a happy thought had occurred to the middy, and he wondered that it had not come before, as he hurried to the proper spot, made a little search, and found that he was right—that there was a spare breech-block on board which enabled him and Poole, after gaining access to the magazine, to thrust a blank cartridge into the great gun and announce the fact in what was literally a feu de joie.



CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.

A REGULAR YOUNG FILIBUSTER.

"Oh, pray don't say any more to me about it, sir," cried Fitz, the next day. "It was only just an idea."

"An idea, my dear young friend!" cried the President.

"Yes, sir; a mere trifle."

"A trifle!" said the President. "Oh, how lightly you English boys do take such things. Your trifle, as you call it, has made me fast in the Governmental chair. I shall always think that I owe you my success."

"What, because I thought there was another breech-block, sir?"

"Oh, not merely that. There was your first idea about getting away from the hacienda and coming round here by sea. They may seem trifles to your young elastic spirit, but their effect has been great."

"Once more, sir; please don't say any more. My only wonder is now, that somebody else on board the gunboat did not think about the spare block and get it into use."

"Ah, yes; one of the officers has been talking to me about it. He said he was the only man on board who knew of its existence, and—simply because it had not been wanted—he had almost forgotten, or, as he put it, it was for the time driven out of his head by the great trouble they were in, caused by the fouling of the screw, and the current carrying them on to the rocks."

"Oh, I am glad of that," said Fitz. "Glad? Why?" said the President, looking at him wonderingly.

"Because it makes Poole Reed stand out so much better than I do. It was entirely his notion to foul the screw."

"Oh, come, come, come!" cried Don Ramon. "I am not going to weigh you both in the balance to see which was the better. I shall always look upon you as a pair of young heroes."

"Oh, I say," cried Poole, "please don't!"

"Very well," said the Spaniard, laughing; "I'll say no more, but I shall think."

"I don't mind his thinking," said Fitz, a short time later when he was talking to his companion about what had been said. "But I hope next time he wants to go into ecstasies about what we did, he'll let them all off at you."

"Thankye," said Poole; "much obliged." The lads had something else to think of the next day, for in the midst of the rejoicings over Don Ramon's success, and when the gunboat was dressed with colours from head to stern, the new President's flag predominant, and her old officers accepting the alteration in the state of affairs with the greatest nonchalance, and in fact on the whole pleased with the change of rulers, signals were shown from the high look-out at the entrance of the harbour indicating that a vessel was in sight. In the midst of the excitement that this caused, steam was hastily got up on board the gunboat, and the decks cleared for action ready for an engagement if necessary in Don Ramon's cause.

The excitement soon ceased to be alarming, for in due course the stranger's flag was made out, her signal for a pilot answered, and in the course of the afternoon a United States cruiser steamed in, answering the salute from the fort and gunboat, and taking up her position close under their guns.

The rest of the customary civilities were interchanged, and the captain of the Yankee came ashore to visit the new President, laughingly saying that he had come to see Don Villarayo, but as he was in the mountains and a new President governed in his stead, and as he supposed it was only a matter of form before Don Ramon would be acknowledged by the American Government, he had nothing to do but wait for instructions after he had communicated with Washington.

The captain made himself very agreeable, chatting with Don Ramon's notabilities, and the schooner's skipper; but several times he glanced searchingly in the direction of Fitz Burnett, who had been awaiting his opportunity either to be introduced or to go up and speak.

His turn came at last, for the captain fixed his eyes upon him with a look of invitation to which Fitz instantly responded by closing up, colouring slightly the while with consciousness, as it seemed to him that the American captain, all spick and span in his neat naval uniform, was looking askant at the well-worn garments the lad was wearing.

"How do, youngster?" he said. "I didn't know one of your cruisers was in these waters. Has she left you here as a hostage, or something of the kind? You English chaps are everywhere."

For long enough Fitz Burnett had been waiting for this moment, ready to pour out his troubles and adventures to somebody who would give him help; and now that the time had come he could hardly speak.

The American captain noticed it, and raised his eyebrows a little.

"Why was it?" he said kindly, as he saw how thoroughly agitated the boy was. "In trouble?"

"Yes, sir," cried Fitz.

"You don't mean to tell me you've done such a stupid school-boy act as to desert your ship?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" cried Fitz excitedly; and out it all came, the captain listening eagerly and questioning him wherever the boy hesitated, till he had finished his adventurous tale.

"Well, this is something fresh, my lad," cried the American captain. "But I reckon that the time will come when you'll think you've been in luck. For you've done nothing wrong. You were regularly taken prisoner while doing your duty, and your skipper can't blame you."

"Think not, sir?" cried Fitz, warming up in the gratitude he felt for the captain's sympathy.

"Think not? Of course! If he does, and won't have you back, I'll find you a berth on my ship, and be glad to have you. What do you say? Will you come?"

Fitz looked at him searchingly, and shook his head.

"I am in the Queen's service, sir," he said.

"And a fine service too, my lad. But how has this skipper behaved to you since you've been with him?"

"Oh, as if I had been his own son, sir," cried Fitz warmly; "and his boy and I have been the best of friends."

"But I say, you've been a regular young filibuster all the time, breaking the laws and helping in a revolution. Why, you've been carrying on high jinks, and no mistake! But you don't mean to tell me you want to stay with them?"

"Oh no, of course not. I want to rejoin the Tonans."

"Where do you say—in the Channel Service? Well, I can't take you there."

"I thought, sir, that perhaps you would put me on board some English cruiser," cried Fitz.

"And I will, of course. But it may be a month first."

"I don't mind that, sir," said Fitz, "so long as I can send a message home, for they must think I'm—"

He broke down here, for he could bear no more.

What he had thought would be all joy proved to be pain, and as he was turning away, it was with the knowledge that the American captain had read him through and through, giving him a warm pressure of the hand, and saying, just loud enough for him to hear—

"Directly I can get at the wires I'll send a message to New York, telling our people to communicate with your Admiralty, that you are alive and well."

The next minute the captain was talking with both the Reeds, and to Fitz's great satisfaction he saw that they were chatting, evidently on the most friendly terms.

As the American captain had suggested, it was nearly a month before he sailed away with Fitz on board, after a parting that made the hearts of the two lads ache, while the pressure of the skipper's hand lingered long.

But after the fashion of most boys under such circumstances they hid their emotions like men.

"I suppose," said the skipper, "I shall never have the chance to give you such a cruise again."

"No," said Fitz, laughing; "never, I should say. Good-bye, sir! Good-bye, Poole, old chap, till next time."

"Yes," said Poole merrily. "So long!"

THE END.