Part 78 (1/2)

”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 gla.s.s.

”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 c.o.xswain 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 fis.h.i.+ng-boats that the enemy had driven you ash.o.r.e 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 ash.o.r.e.

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 ash.o.r.e, 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.”