Chapter III: Part 3

'He says the President is too busy to see me,' the Minister told the Captain, who was gradually getting angry at being treated like this. Then there was another commotion, and in came the grand-looking old Governor of Los Angelos and the black A.D.C. He seemed to be a friend of the Minister, for he stopped and shook his hand, bowed and yarned quite pleasantly. He too went into the other room.

'I've told him that I must see the President,' the Minister said, and we waited again, though even he wasn't successful, and came back shrugging his shoulders and spreading out his hands, his great sword clanking along the floor.

The Minister's face never altered the slightest bit. 'He refuses to see me--will only receive the senior foreign Minister--that is the Comte de Launy, the Frenchman. It's no use waiting here any longer--we must go and find him--it will take an hour.'

His voice never altered in the slightest degree, but the Captain was 'tut tutting' and polishing his eye-glass, whilst Mr. Perkins was bubbling over with wrath.

As we went out we saw the officers all sneering at us, but the Governor sang out something very angrily, and they stood to attention and he himself bowed us out. We were jolly glad to get out, I can tell you, because it was such a horrid feeling to have all these strange fierce-looking officers all round us without being able to understand a word they said, and to feel certain that they'd like to murder us.

'Well, the old Governor's a gent, isn't he?' the Angel whispered.

We drove back to the Residence--I was feeling awfully sick with funk about Billums--and there we were left whilst the Captain and the Minister drove away again to find the Frenchman.

It was long after four o'clock; Mr. Macdonald would be on his way down to Los Angelos, and we hadn't the least idea how we should get back; but we didn't want to go back so long as old Billums was shut up in San Sebastian, and might be shot any minute.

There were only three ladies there now, the Minister's wife and her two daughters, and they did their very best to cheer us up. The Angel was in great form--he always was when ladies were about--and sang his rotten songs; but as I couldn't sit still, I wandered out into the courtyard, and fed some goldfish in one of the fountains. It was fairly cool there, and every time I heard wheels I ran to the gateway, but they didn't come back till nearly six o'clock, and when I rushed out, hoping to see Billums with them, there was only a dried-up little man in another gorgeous uniform--the French Minister.

'No good, Temple,' the Captain said, looking awfully serious.

'He won't let him go till his brother surrenders--does it to humiliate us.'

'What are you going to do now, sir?' I asked him, but he didn't answer.

They all three drove away again, and Mr. Perkins told me that they were going to collect all the foreign Ministers, and intended to see him in a body.

Then he and we two mids. had to do more waiting--it was terrible. The sun went down, it got dark quite suddenly, and we couldn't help thinking of the awful road down the mountains to Los Angelos and how we were going to get down there at night.

The Minister's wife gave us some dinner and tried to be jolly, but I couldn't be, and couldn't eat anything. She and the girls were pretty nervous too, because, all the time we were pretending to have dinner, there were noises as if a riot was going on in the town. We were all fidgeting, and the black men-servants in their scarlet liveries were very jumpy. You could see by the way they moved about that they were frightened too.

The Minister's wife made them close the big windows and that drowned a good deal of the noise, and I couldn't see the dark creepy shadows of the palms outside and felt less uncomfortable. She kept on saying, 'I wish your father would come back,' and, just as we were going to have some coffee, we heard the banging of rifles. The black footman dropped his tray, and all of them simply trembled. It was no use to sit any longer at the table, the two girls began to cry, and then it was our turn to do something to help.

The firing sometimes seemed to be coming our way, so we three went round the garden and made sure that all the gates were locked--a jolly creepy job it was out there in the dark, and I jumped every time I heard a rifle go off. The servants were all standing about, whispering and looking frightened, which made it all the more horrid; so, to give them something to do, we sent them to close all the shutters, though we couldn't get them to go into the street to close some there, and had to do that ourselves. Then we made the three ladies come into the drawing-room, lighted all the lamps, and tried to cheer them up. The Angel played the piano, and Mr. Perkins, who hates singing, bellowed out some sea-songs and made them join in the choruses. That wasn't much of a success, so he scratched his funny old head and did a few tricks. One was to stand straight upright and then sit down on the floor without bending his knees, and he did it so jolly well that it nearly shook the ornaments off the mantelpiece, and the bump frightened them all. Then he showed them how he could fall flat on his chest without bending his knees, and did it, but banged his chin hard on the polished floor, so that wasn't quite a success either.

We couldn't think of any other tricks.

Nine o'clock came, and ten o'clock--there was no firing now--and half-past ten came before we heard several carriages coming towards the house, and went out into the courtyard to the street gate.

The Minister, the Captain, the tall German, who turned out to be the German Minister, and was in a grand-looking uniform, the little Frenchman, four or five others, and the United States Minister in ordinary evening dress, got down, and then several ladies, closely wrapped up, came in too.

All the Ministers disappeared into another room by themselves, only the Captain and the ladies coming into the drawing-room. He was saying 'tut, tut' all the time, and all we could get out of him was, 'We've been treated like children--tut, tut--by a miserable half-bred savage--he won't listen to us.'

'A lot of firing going on in the city, isn't there, sir?' Mr. Perkins asked.

'Only a few drunken soldiers letting off their rifles,' he grunted, and then he was sent for, and a few minutes afterwards a man-servant came in to ask the Minister's wife to speak to her husband. She went out, and we could hear her speaking to him, and back she came looking very pale. 'Captain Grattan' (that was our Captain) 'has asked us to stay on board the _Hector_, my dears; we are going down with him to-night.'

She tried to look cheerful, but they and we knew what that meant--that it wasn't safe for them in Santa Cruz any longer--and the girls began to cry again. All three of them went away to get ready.

'Phew! Great smokes,' Mr. Perkins whistled, 'it's come to a pretty pass--that ass of a Sub has stirred up a hornets' nest, if you like.'

'It wasn't his fault, sir,' I said; 'he couldn't help it.'

Just then the Captain and the Ministers trooped in. They looked as though they'd come to some decision which pleased them, and it made the Angel and me feel more happy about poor old Billums up there in San Sebastian. We both wondered whether he'd had any dinner, and what he thought had become of us--all this time. Some more ladies came in, all wrapped up in furs because the night was very cold, and in the middle of all the hubbub we heard a lot of cavalry coming along. They stopped outside the house, and a moment later the Governor of Los Angelos, with his two A.D.C.'s, came in. Weren't we pleased to see him, that's all! There was more bowing and scraping, coffee was handed round, and we two edged alongside the little A.D.C. who had talked English in the gun-room yesterday. He recognised us then and said, smiling, 'We take you to Los Angelos to-night--the senoras and the senoritas also--we have many horse soldiers--the road it has much danger.'

'How about Billums--William Wilson--our Sub?' we asked, 'up in San Sebastian.'

He smiled, and pulled out--what d'you think?--old Billums's cigarette case--I knew it jolly well--and said, 'I give him my--he give me him,' but shut up like an oyster, shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head when we asked him if Billums was coming with us. That made us miserable again, and we went out to see what the cavalry escort were like. They had dismounted, and were swaggering into the courtyard, looking absolute villains, most of them niggers, their carbines and bandoliers over their shoulders, revolvers in their belts, and swords, which clanked and rattled whenever they moved. The servants were giving them cigarettes and some food, but, for all that, they didn't seem at all friendly, and the whites of their eyes showed up under the swinging lanterns, and made them look more like brigands than ever. The Angel palled up to them and made them show him their rifles, but I felt too frightened and only hoped that the Governor was coming with us. The carriages drove up, all the ladies came out and were put into them, the dear old Governor of Los Angelos handing them in and bending down to kiss our Minister's wife's hands in such a jolly manner that the Angel and I could have hugged him.

We felt that he could be absolutely trusted, and weren't we jolly glad again when his horse was led up and he and part of the escort rode away with the ladies.

In the last carriage the Captain, Mr. Perkins, and we two mids. were stowed, and away we went after them with the two A.D.C.'s bobbing behind on their horses and the rest of the escort, leaving the Ministers all standing together under the lamp which lit up their faces and all their beautiful gold lace.

'They don't look very "sniffy," do they?' I whispered to the Angel, 'I should if I was letting my wife go away like this.'

'Not if you'd got those uniforms on and had a Frenchman or a German or a Dutchman watching you,' he whispered.

I expect he was right.

The Governor came clattering back on his great horse to see that we'd started, and then went on ahead again, the black A.D.C. bumping along after him.

You can imagine what a row we made, and how, as we got into the streets, all the shutters of the windows were thrown back and people peered at us from behind the bars; dogs, too, flew out and barked from every doorway. It was a wonderful night--a big moon and millions of stars, the tops of the mountains showing up all round us. Jolly cold it was, too, and the Angel and I were glad to snuggle together under a rug.

We seemed to go a long way round, skirting the city, and though sometimes at street corners pickets and patrols challenged us, they were quite satisfied. Presently we passed close to a great shadowy building high up on our right. It had a funny little tower at one corner, and we recognised the shadow at once--it was San Sebastian.

The Angel and I squeezed each other to buck ourselves up, and kept our eyes on it all the time. It looked most awfully gloomy, and it seemed horrid to think that only twelve hours ago Billums had driven past it with us, and now he was inside and we were going back without him.

'What will he think of us?' I gulped. 'Poor old Billums!'

Well, we got on to the main road, left the city behind us, and presently began to go downhill. Mr. Perkins went to sleep soon, his jolly red face rolling from side to side as the carriage bumped, and the Captain snuggled down in the other corner, and we knew when he went to sleep, because his eyeglass fell out, and he didn't 'tut, tut,' and put it back.

We didn't go to sleep for a long time--we were too miserable and cold--and watched the troopers riding on each side of us with their blankets over their shoulders, and every half-mile or so, flaming fires at the side of the road, with soldiers sitting round them. We could hear them challenging the carriages in front, but when we got up to them, they only stared at us, or called out to the escort, and wrapped their blankets round them more closely. There was a huge nigger chap riding on my side of the carriage, and both he and his wretched thin horse seemed nearly asleep. I watched him bobbing and lurching from side to side in his saddle, waking up with a start whenever his poor brute stumbled, and then must have gone to sleep, because the next I remember was finding that we were going past rows of houses--pitch dark, with not a sound coming from them--and knew that we'd got down to Los Angelos.

I was colder than ever, because the Angel had all the rug, but the smell of the sea was grand.

We drove down to the wharf where we'd landed in the morning. The carriages all stopped--I could hardly stand when I got out because my legs were so cramped--and two of our barges were waiting for us, their mids. holding up lanterns and singing out to let us know where they were.

The cavalry escort clattered away, the old Governor kissed the hands of all the ladies as he helped them into the boats, the two A.D.C.'s, looking frightfully sleepy, clicked their heels and bowed, the Captain said, 'Tut, tut,' a good many times and shook the Governor by the hand, the Angel and I managed to get hold of the fat A.D.C. and shake his hand, and off we all went.

It was simply splendid to be in a boat again and to hear the oars go 'click, click' in the rowlocks, and when we'd got round the end of the breakwater to see the lights of the _Hector_ and _Hercules_. The other chaps who had gone back before us had taken orders for the two barges to wait in, all night, if necessary; that was why we'd found them there.

The Angel and I were both of us dead tired, and went down below to turn in, but there was a lot of scurrying up above; we heard the Gunnery Lieutenant sent for, and the Captain's Clerk was turned out. Evidently something exciting was going to happen, so we ran up on deck again and, peeping down the ward-room skylight, saw our Captain and the Captain of the _Hercules_, the Commander, and most of our senior officers all sitting round the table, which was littered with papers and confidential books.

We stole away, because the officer of the watch whacked us over the back with his telescope, and were undressing in the gun-room flat when the bugler sounded the 'officers' call' and 'both watches fall in.' We heard 'Clear lower deck' being shouted along the mess decks and bugles sounding aboard the _Hercules_, so instead of undressing we shifted into uniform, whilst every one else tumbled out of their hammocks and shifted into theirs. We all clattered up on deck.

'Everybody aft' was piped, and the men came streaming through the dark battery door into the glare of the group light on the quarterdeck, buttoning up the tops of their trousers and stuffing their flannels down them.

The master-at-arms reported 'Lower deck cleared, sir,' to the Commander, he reported to the Captain, and the Captain, standing on the top of the after 9.2 inch turret, coughed, said 'tut, tut,' a good many times, and then told the men that Billums had been collared because he was so much like his brother, who'd mixed himself up in politics, that the President was going to keep him till Gerald surrendered, and that all the foreign Ministers were agreed that steps had to be taken jolly quickly to get him out of San Sebastian.

The men were as quiet as lambs, waiting for the exciting part and to know what he intended doing. You couldn't hear a sound. 'I want you to clear for action--now--do it quickly--I'm going to take the _Hector_ inside the breakwater at daylight, whilst Captain Roger Hill'--he called him 'Old Spats,' but corrected himself--'gets under way in the _Hercules_ and prepares to tackle the forts. They've got some--you've seen them--up on the hill above the town--but won't give us much trouble. If Mr. Wilson is not at the landing-stage at noon, the foreign Ministers will be, and they and all the Europeans who wish will come aboard this ship. That being the case, I shall then--acting under the Ministers' orders--take possession of the five Santa Cruz cruisers and gunboats inside and shall tow them out.'

You could feel the men getting excited, and then he gave several more 'tut, tuts,' and told us that a revolution had started, and that, as the revolutionary people came from both the provinces to the north and south, and the mountains separated them and made it impossible for them to combine successfully by land, the only way they could do so was by the sea, and as long as the President had his cruisers and gunboats he could prevent them doing so, and keep the upper hand.

'If we capture his ships, the insurgents can do what they like,' and he finished up with, 'There are ladies aboard--we couldn't leave them in Santa Cruz--so work quietly. Carry on, Commander!' We dug out like smoke, turning the boats in and filling them with water, getting down davits and rails, lashing the rigging, and working hard till daylight came.

Then all us mids. scrambled down below to get some hot cocoa and bread and butter, and were up on deck again in a jiffy, for the buglers sounded 'cable officers,' which meant that we were just going to weigh anchor, and we didn't want to miss any of the fun.

The _Hercules_, cleared for action, just astern of us, was looking awfully grim, her long guns simply bristling over the sides, and white ensigns lashed in her rigging.

Petty Officer O'Leary came up to ask about Billums--he was very worried about him--and, just as we began to steam ahead, a cloud of smoke shot out from one of the forts above the town.

'They're going to fight,' I sang out, not quite certain that I wasn't frightened.

But O'Leary growled, and said, 'No such luck, sir, anyway, that's only the sunrise gun--late as usu'l, sir.'

'General quarters' was sounded--we could hear it too aboard the _Hercules_--and we all had to rush to our stations. Mine was in the starboard for'ard 9.2 turret, and you may bet your life that directly we'd cleared it away, and had things ready inside, I got my head jammed outside the sighting hood to see what was going on.

We headed straight inshore, and then made a wide sweep round the lighthouse and the end of the breakwater.

As we turned, the white forts about the town came into view, and we tried to get our gun to bear on them, but though we gave it extreme elevation, cocking it up in the air, we couldn't elevate it nearly enough.

Mr. Bigge, the lieutenant in charge of my turret, was very angry about it, but of course nothing could be done. That was why the _Hercules_ was steaming backwards and forwards, far enough outside the breakwater for her guns to bear.

As we crept up to the town, I kept my telescope glued on the forts, but couldn't see any sign of life in them.

'They aren't going to fight, sir, are they?' I asked Mr. Bigge, and he didn't think they were, which was very disappointing--one doesn't mind being fired at when one is inside a turret.

On the port side--the breakwater side--we were now right alongside the Santa Cruz Navy--miserable dirty little ships when you saw them close to us. Their people were awake and on deck, but hardly bothered to look at us, and were fishing over the side, smoking cigarettes, and spitting in the water, some of them washing clothes and hanging them up in the rigging. They did hoist their colours--the vertical green and yellow stripes--after a time, but that was the only thing they did. Not very exciting, after all we had been hoping for, was it?

Just before we got up to the end of the breakwater we'd dropped a kedge anchor made fast to our biggest wire hawser, and as we went along we paid the hawser out astern. Then when we'd got just beyond the landing-stage we dropped an anchor, and there we were in a pretty close billet, not enough room to turn, but our kedge ready to haul us out stern first, and everything as snug as a tin of sardines. We were not a hundred yards from the wharves where that guard of honour had been yesterday, but only a few people and some mules were moving sleepily about, and a lonely-looking sentry leant against a great pile of cocoa bales and yawned.

Well, we'd taken them by surprise right enough, and there was nothing to do but to wait till noon and see what happened. It was a jolly long wait, and I don't really know whether I wanted most to see Billums come off, or to capture the cruisers if he didn't. I know that all the other chaps didn't want him to come off. Outside the breakwater the _Hercules_ still steamed backwards and forwards, with her guns trained on the forts in case anything happened, and during the forenoon got down her top-masts and wireless gear. This made her look all the more ferocious, and our Commander began bellowing and cursing 'that he'd have to do the same and spoil all his paint-work.' It took us a couple of hours, but it was much better than doing nothing, and later on in the morning crowds of people came down on the wharves to look at us, and watch us working. My eye! but it was appallingly hot in there.

At about ten o'clock the forts began to show signs of life, hoisting yellow and green flags and training their guns round and round. They had two dynamite guns in one of them--so the books said--and we felt as though they couldn't possibly miss us if they had fired. That sounded far too exciting--dynamite seemed rather unpleasant---but the Gunnery Lieutenant's 'Doggy' brought the news that none of the guns in the fort could be depressed enough to hit us, which was rather a relief--really--though the others didn't think so. The cruisers, too, began to get up steam, let down their gun ports, and ran their guns out. We could see them being loaded, and then they were trained on us, which was very exciting when you remember that they were only fifty yards away.

Directly they had the cheek to do this our port guns were trained on them--the foremost 9.2 on one, the port for'ard 9.2 on another, two of the 7.5's on a third, and so on, with orders to fire directly the Santa Cruz ships fired.

Of course these poor little things wouldn't have stood a chance, but they kept their crews at their guns, and if they'd only been able to let off one broadside it would have swept our decks. This made it jolly interesting for all of us who were getting down the topmasts and had to work in the open.

I had never thought about how Billums or the Ministers were coming off, and when at seven bells the first and second barges were called away, you can imagine how excited I was, because the second barge was mine. They lowered us into the water, planked a Maxim gun in the bows, revolvers and cutlasses were served out to the crew, and I had my dirk and revolver.

The Commander bellowed down that we were to go inshore, lie off the steps at the landing-place, and wait for Billums or the Ministers.

I was in white uniform with a white helmet, and it was so boilingly hot that, though the men only had on straw hats, flannels, and duck trousers, they sweated under their cutlass belts before they'd pulled half-way inshore.

As we got close to the wharf it was more exciting still, because the people crowding there and the soldiers began shouting and jeering at us, shaking sticks and throwing stones--not to hit us, but to splash us. They weren't brave enough to do any more, because they could see all the starboard twelve-pounders on board the _Hector_ trained on them. I felt jolly important, and when Blotchy Smith--the midshipman of the first barge and a pal of mine--sang out for me to 'lay on my oars,' we bobbed up and down only about ten yards away and pretended we didn't see them.

We waited and waited; eight bells struck aboard the _Hector_, there wasn't a sign of any one coming, and the black ruffians on the wharf became more irritating than ever. Several lumps of mud and dirt had been thrown into the boats, and one had struck my clean helmet, but I still pretended not to notice anything. It got so bad soon that Blotchy Smith sang out to me to train my Maxim on the crowd, and you would have laughed if you'd seen the brutes clearing away.

Then the _Hector_ signalled across that carriages could be seen coming down the road from Santa Cruz, and after another long wait we heard the mob ashore groaning and hooting, and a lot of cavalry and several carriages came clattering and rattling along the wooden wharves.

You can guess how we wondered whether it was Billums coming or only the Ministers. It wasn't Billums, for we saw all the foreign Ministers, and knew that they would not have come with him.

Some soldiers made a way for them, and then we had to pull backwards and forwards, taking them and a lot of Europeans--Mr. Macdonald among them--off to the ship, and afterwards go back for their luggage.

'Well, we'll have a bit of a "dust up" after this, sir,' my coxswain said, and that was about the only comfort.

The Angel told me afterwards that when the Ministers got on board their wives came up and made asses of them, they were so jolly pleased to see them, but they'd all been sent below by the time my boat had been hoisted in. Then we had to collar the cruisers.

Well, even that was disappointing, because they never made any resistance, the officers simply shrugged their shoulders when we hauled their colours down and hoisted our own white ensigns, and ordered their men to pull ashore. You couldn't really blame them, because our 9.2 shells would have blown them to smithereens; but, for all that, it was very tame.

By half-past one we'd got hawsers aboard their flagship, the _Presidente Canilla_, and by three o'clock hawsers had been passed from her to the others, and we simply went astern, hauling on our kedge anchor till we were clear of the breakwater, and then steamed astern with the whole of the Santa Cruz Navy coming along after us like a lot of toy ships on the end of a string. It looked perfectly silly, and the last one--a gunboat as big as a decent Gosport ferry-boat--fouled the end of the breakwater till our chaps aboard of her shoved her off, and along she came after the rest of them. By five o'clock we and the _Hercules_ had anchored, and all the prizes as well.

It was a jolly tame ending to all the excitement, and we all wondered what we should do next to make them give up Billums. The A.P. said that we should probably land and take possession of the Custom House.

He bucked us up a good deal, but not even that came off, because before we finished making everything shipshape for the night, out puffed the port launch, flying a huge white flag in her bows and the yellow and green ensign in the stern, bringing out our friend the Governor and his two A.D.C.'s. They came along to make complete apologies, and say that Billums should be given up next morning. He brought a letter from the President simply grovelling to the various Ministers and imploring them and the merchants to come ashore again. Wasn't that grand, although, you know, we couldn't help feeling that we'd been rather playing the bully?

When it got dark, the Angel, and I, and Mr. Bostock, the Gunner, with half-a-dozen hands, were sent aboard one of the ships, the _Salvador_, an old torpedo-gunboat kind of affair, to keep watch through the night. We had revolvers served out to us in case any chaps from shore tried to play the idiot; but they didn't, and we simply sat down under an awning with our coat-collars turned up, and took it in turns to keep watch, or, if we were all awake, got Mr. Bostock to tell us tales of Ladysmith.

In the morning we all went back to the _Hector_, and at five minutes past ten o'clock old Billums came along in the port launch, the Governor bringing him off and making more apologies. Billums _was_ glad to get back again--he wanted a shave and a clean collar most awfully--and you can guess how jolly glad we were to have him. The Commander bellowed at him that he'd make him pay for all the paint-work which had been spoilt by clearing for action, but it was only his way--he couldn't help it--and the _Hercules_ gun-room sent a signal, 'Sub to ditto. We are all jolly glad to get you back,' which was nice of him, though his beasts of mids. didn't join in with the signal--just like them.

Well, the Ministers and the merchants went ashore jolly pleased with themselves, but they left all the ladies on board, as they thought it wiser for them to go to Prince Rupert's Island with us till things had quieted down in Santa Cruz.

We gave Billums a rousing good sing-song, till the Commander ordered us to chuck it, and was appallingly rude to him; and next morning we left the Santa Cruz Navy for its own people to take back behind the breakwater, and shoved off for Prince Rupert's Island.

You should have seen the Angel looking after the Minister's two daughters! It was too asinine for words, and I told him so. He said I was jealous, and we jolly nearly came to punching each other's heads about them.

*CHAPTER V*

*Gerald Wilson captures San Fernando*

_Written by Sub-Lieutenant William Wilson_

Those thirty-six hours in San Sebastian are over and done with, and I shouldn't care to go through them again. They were the longest hours I have ever spent, and they, at any rate, taught me what it does feel like to be a prisoner, and to look through an iron gateway and envy everything outside it, and everybody. The other chaps--_insurrectos_ they all were--had been jolly decent to me, although I could not understand their lingo, and the way they settled down and took things as a matter of course was simply extraordinary. Even when two more were dragged out the morning I was released, and shot against that parapet, the others only shrugged their shoulders and simply smoked cigarettes all the harder. You could only imagine that they were but half-civilized, had known no other way of carrying on the politics of the Republic, and were so used to violence and murder that, when their turn came to go 'under,'they simply bowed to the inevitable, their only consolation being that probably in another few weeks or months, if luck favoured their party, that same stuffy room would be crowded with President's men, and quite possibly the same villainous-looking firing-party would just as cheerfully prop them up against that wall and shoot them down. These same miserable-looking convicts, whom I'd seen with chains round their ankles, would almost certainly be there to dig fresh graves.

Of course, all those hours I wondered what our chaps were doing to bail me out, but didn't worry much--I knew things would come right in the end--and of course they did.

But I did worry about Gerald and what his hare-brained adventures would lead him to. He had always been getting into trouble at home, and that was why the pater and mater had shipped him out to Santa Cruz, though they little thought that he'd take a leading part in a revolution, and the poor old mater would be fearfully worried when she heard about it. It was jolly to know that an Englishman, and my own brother, was such a boss among these fierce, blood-thirsty, half-Spanish people, but that wouldn't be much comfort to the mater if he was stuck up against the parapet of San Sebastian, which would certainly be his fate if he ever fell into the clutches of the President.

It was my chum of the cigarette case who actually fetched me down and took me aboard the _Hector_. Even whilst I was trying to thank him, the Commander began bellowing that 'He'd make me pay for the paint he'd spoilt clearing for action and housing the topmasts.' He was as rude as it was possible to be, but every one else--'Old Tin Eye' included--was all right, and Ginger signalled congratulations from the _Hercules_.

Of course my adventure was known all over Princes' Town before we'd anchored more than an hour or two, and reporters from the local papers and Reuter's Agent came bustling on board for more details, but were told nothing, except that I'd been arrested by mistake, and that, as a hint to the President to let me out again, 'chop, chop,' one or two of the Santa Cruz gunboats had been seized. We had all been ordered to give no political information to anybody, but you may imagine that their ears were rigged out for something more exciting than that, and you can jolly well guess who gave it to them--the Angel backed up by Cousin Bob. They saw their way to getting a cheap 'blow out' at the Savannah Hotel, and actually had the cheek to tell the two local reporters that if they'd stand them a dinner there, they would tell them all they knew about it.

They had put their names down in the leave book for the late boat and went ashore, but of course I had no idea what their game was. I had turned in early, and they woke me, by knocking at my cabin and asking if they could come in.

I switched on my light, and there they were, in their best blue suits, grinning from ear to ear.

They both began talking twenty to the dozen. 'We've given you such a "leg up"--we've had a topping feed at the Savannah, and you'll see all about it in the papers to-morrow!'

'All what?' I asked.

'All about you fighting dozens of soldiers, knocking them over, and of our trying to rescue you.'

'We put in a lot of extras to make it look better,' Bob squeaked.

'We told them all about knocking over the rotten _Hercules_ mids., and about you being so like Cousin Gerald.'

'What!' I sang out, sitting up in my bunk. 'You blessed idiots, what rot have you been up to? You know you had orders not to speak of it.'

'We didn't say a word about politics, not a word,' Bob said rather nervously. 'It's quite all right; we never mentioned politics.' The Angel added, 'We didn't tell them the real way you escaped.'

'Out with it! What did you tell them, you fools?'

They were backing out of the cabin--rather sulky--but I yelled for them to come back. 'Now, none of your tomfoolery. What did you tell them?'

'Well, we gave ourselves a bit of a leg up too,' the Angel began, looking down his nose as good as gold.

'It really was all a joke,' Bob interrupted, 'it was their fault if they believed it. We told them that we waited till night under the walls of San Sebastian, wriggled over the parapet, and found your dungeon.'

'We told them that we'd whistled "Rule, Britannia!"--very softly--till--we--heard--you--whistle back,' the Angel stuttered out, choking with laughter, 'and that the sentry was asleep, and we only had to knock him down--and gag him--steal the key--open the door--all of us crawling away again over the walls and tramping it on our flat feet down to Los Angelos.'

'You don't mean to tell me that they believed all that rot?'

'We think they did--wasn't it a joke?' Bob said--he was beginning to see that I didn't think it a joke. 'We gave them the key of the dungeon--an old brass key we'd found on the armourer's bench before we went ashore.'

'It was the key of the bread-room that was broken yesterday,' the Angel gurgled, when he could stop laughing. 'And we said we'd all swum off to the ship in the dark.'

I wasn't in the humour to see how it was funny, and sent them out of it. 'If anything does come out in the papers, I'll beat you both,' I told them.

'Well, the feed was worth a hiding, and the joke too,' Bob mumbled, as they went away--thank goodness the Angel was no relation of mine and had no mother or sister who could write snorters to me, so he didn't dare to be rude.

You can guess how angry I was next morning, when the wretched local papers did come aboard, and saw in big letters: 'Romantic Escape of British Naval Officer--Plucky Middies effect Rescue,' and underneath it was the silliest nonsense you could possibly read. Honestly, even now I don't know whether it was put in as a joke, and whether, instead of Bob and the Angel pulling the reporters' legs, they were pulling ours. Angry! I was too angry to speak!

They described me as Sub-Lieutenant William Wilson, the celebrated United Service half-back, and the brilliant naval officer, specially appointed to command the _Hector's_ gun-room by the Lords of the Admiralty as a mark of their appreciation of my services! Angry! My blessed potatoes! I sent for my dear cousin and the Angel and gave them six of the best over the gun-room table--as hard as I could lay it on--the first three for making their Sub look a fool, and the last three for disobeying the Captain's orders. I know which were the hardest whacks, and I didn't care a biscuit what Bob's sister, Daisy, thought or wrote. They went away muttering that the dinner was worth it--every time--which was meant to be rude, because they both had got it into their noddles that they'd actually given me a 'leg up,' and couldn't see that they'd only made a laughing-stock of me.

First of all the Commander sent for me on the quarterdeck. He had Perkins there as a witness, and before I ever had a chance of saying anything, bellowed out, 'You're the "brilliant naval officer," are you? You're a fool, and an idiot, and a useless idiot. You can't keep order in the gun-room, and the sooner you get out of the ship the better.' He bellowed till the maintopmen, painting masts and yards up aloft, left off painting to listen to him. He didn't ask me to speak, so I didn't--said not a word--which made him almost apoplectic with rage, his ugly red face getting perfectly crimson. Every time he stopped for breath, Perkins kept on trying to tell him that perhaps it wasn't my fault, which sprung him off again, and at last he turned round and cursed him for interfering.

Perkins twisted round on his heel and hobbled off, but the Commander called for him to come back, and he did, his jolly face all tightened out.

'Did you hear the Commander curse me on the quarterdeck?' he asked very quietly.

'I did, sir,' I said; and he turned to the Commander, 'Very well, I shall see the Captain about it. I'm not going to stand any more of it.'

You should have seen the Commander's face. His mouth opened, and he looked as if he would willingly have murdered the two of us, then he bounced off the quarterdeck, and into his cabin just inside the battery, and banged the door, like the childish bully he was. As he didn't come out again, I went below.

Then the Skipper sent for me. He was grinning all over his face: 'Those two boys have made a fool of you, Wilson; tut! tut! stop their leave--whack 'em both.'

'I've beaten them, sir, already,' I told him, 'and given them six apiece--as hard as I could,' and explained to him that I had no idea why they went ashore.

'Tut! tut! no harm done; they got their dinner all right; tell 'em to lunch with me, tut! tut!--if they can sit down--I'd have done it myself for a good dinner--thirty years ago.'

Old Ginger and I had arranged to go for a walk together that afternoon, to shake up our livers, and I was not particularly keen, after what had happened, to ask leave from the Commander, but I screwed up my courage and did so, and was flattened aback when he said, 'Very good, Wilson. Come and have "chow" with me in the ward-room to-night--celebrate your release.'

That was the rotten, or rather the irritating, part about him. After he'd been as rude as a fishwife, and long before you'd got over bubbling with anger at the sight of him, he'd come up as if nothing had happened and take the wind out of your sails.

Of course I had to say 'Yes,' although at the time I'd have much preferred to take him on with bare knuckles and punch his head to relieve my feelings.

Old Ginger met me at the Governor's steps, where we landed, and we had a fifteen-mile walk as hard as we could go--tearing along till we hadn't a dry rag between us.

Fifteen miles in that climate takes more out of you than twice the distance in England, so you can guess we were pretty well 'done' by the time we got back to the landing-steps.

Whilst we waited for our boats we sat under the shade of the fruit market and watched the niggers--all as cheerful as sand-boys--unloading a cargo of cocoa-pods from a small schooner. The washer-ladies were coming ashore, too, from the _Hector_ and _Hercules_, cackling like hens because of the huge bundles of clothes they'd got. Perkins's friend, Arabella de Montmorency, was the first to waddle up the steps, grinning from ear to ear, and carrying a huge bundle. 'The good Lo'd be praised,' she sang out to a buck-nigger waiting for her, 'Massa Perkins pay Arabella the three shilling and tuppence--Massa Perkins know Arabella good vash-lady--no black trash for Massa Perkins. I pray de good Lo'd keep Massa Perkins in His strong hand.' She went back into the boat for more washing, but the other washer-ladies had bagged it, and there was a fine row. All their men friends joined in shouting, and yelling, and shaking their fists at each other, and we hoped to see a good free-fight, but the Sikh policeman on duty stepped majestically forward, said a few sharp words, and they all burst out laughing, Arabella waddling away with her man carrying the disputed bundle, and trying to look dignified, telling everybody: 'Arabella no black trash--Arabella vash for de British naval officah.'

It was too funny for words, Ginger and I were simply doubled up with laughter, when I felt some one touch my shoulder, and, looking round, saw a thick-set native chap, as brown as leather--like those soldier chaps we'd seen on the wharf at Los Angelos--in a blue striped cotton vest, which showed his lumpy chest muscles through it, and a pair of loose cotton drawers, his brown legs and feet naked. He was bowing and holding a broad Spanish grass hat in front of him with one hand. 'William Wilson,' he kept on saying.

'What is it, old cock? me William Wilson--all light--belong ploper. What's your game?'

His face beamed, and he pulled a dirty crumpled letter from under his vest and handed it to me.

It was addressed to me in Gerald's handwriting, and I tore it open, his face beaming again as he pointed a thin brown finger first to the address, and then circled it round my face, saying, 'William Wilson.' It was the only English he seemed to know. I read:

'DEAR OLD BILLUMS--Sorry to have cleared out so hurriedly the other day--just managed to give them the slip in time--heard news of your adventure and the Navy business--wish you chaps would collar the lot of them, for good. Keep a look-out for that little chap who was shadowing me; he'll try and get even with one of us. Tell the mater I'm having a ripping time--better than planting--will pay better than planting if our side wins. Tell her those socks she made me are A1. Look out for yourself--you're too much like me for this corner of the world. Don't send an answer.--GERALD.'

The nigger was still beaming and bowing, and he pointed to my hair. I'm jiggered if he hadn't spotted me by it.

That was a funny go, if you like, and I was jolly glad to know that Gerald was all right. It didn't worry me a ha'penny candle about that detective chap--I'd be only too jolly glad to see his ugly face and smash it. Ginger and I thought that the little messenger must have come in one of the many trading-schooners which slipped across from the mainland at night when the land breeze sprung up. We gave him all the small change we had in our pockets, and he smiled, and bowed, and disappeared among the merry crowd round us. He couldn't speak a word of English except my name, and my Chinese pidgin-English wasn't a success.

This was the only excitement and the only news I got from Gerald for several weeks. In the meantime the _Hector_ and the _Hercules_ carried out the gunnery practices which had been interrupted at Gibraltar, returning to anchor off Princes' Town every Thursday night till Monday morning, so we managed to get in a good many football matches. Ginger and I borrowed grounds and had some more gun-room matches as well, but they didn't smooth things over, rather the reverse, for when we beat the _Hercules_ at rugby by a try, which, they swore, wasn't one, matters went from bad to worse. There actually was some doubt about it, for Perkins had been referee (we couldn't get any one else) and couldn't keep up with the ball on account of his game leg. We had to separate the two teams in the pavilion, and after that my mids. seldom came back to the ship from a tennis party, picnic, or dance, or anything in fact, without having some furious tale to spin.

Old Ginger and I pretty nearly washed our hands of them and let them go their own way.

There was no regular news from Santa Cruz all this time, because the President had closed the Telegraph Company's office, but the Pickford and Black steamers still called at Los Angelos twice a month before coming to Princes' Town, and they brought news of what was going on.

As it chiefly came from Santa Cruz, it was from the President's point of view, and if it was at all correct, most of de Costa's people were already in San Sebastian or flying in front of the President's invincible troops.

Our fat friend, Mr. Macdonald, appeared at the Princes' Town Club one day when I happened to be there, and he, too, gave me anything but cheering news. Nearly every week, he told me, the guns of San Sebastian fired a salute in honour of another victory over the _insurrectos_. 'They're not showing fight anywhere; the President's troops are scouring the provinces and driving them from place to place, whilst his cruisers and gunboats scour the coast and prevent any arms or ammunition being smuggled ashore.' This made me jolly nervous about Gerald, and very miserable too, for he also had told me that Gerald's rubber plantation had been entirely destroyed in revenge for his taking up arms. It may have served him right, but it was beastly hard luck on the pater, who had bought the place for him.

Of course we seemed to be in the thick of everything, because Prince Rupert's Island was only fifty-two miles from the nearest point on the coast of Santa Cruz, and, as it was the centre of all the foreign trade of the Republic, the revolution, which was going on there, was practically the only thing talked about. By listening to the English merchants and officials talking at the Club we got to know quite a lot about the military position and the chances of the two parties.

You see the Republic of Santa Cruz stretches for almost a hundred and fifty miles along the eastern shore of South America, and is made up of three big provinces.

Starting from the south, there was the province of Leon, with its vast swamps, forests of mahogany, and other valuable trees, and its rubber and cocoa plantations. It was on the northern border of this province that Gerald had his plantation.

The capital and centre of its trade was San Fernando, situated at the top of a narrow inlet of the sea called La Laguna. Most of this trade was in the hands of Europeans, and the town itself was held for the President by a General Moros with about a thousand troops. From what we heard, he didn't worry much about anything, except to loot the Custom House occasionally or take bribes from the merchants and captains of trading-ships. The President always had a 'down' on this province, and hindered its trade as much as he could without stopping it altogether; and, after his old General had had a 'picking' at San Fernando, every ship had to stop at the narrow mouth of La Laguna and pay more dollars. The President had a pretty modern fort there--El Castellar--to make them heave to if they forgot to stop, and directly the revolution started he had given orders that no ships whatever were to be allowed to pass, so you can pretty well imagine how the English merchants cursed. Then northward of the province of Leon came the towering mountain ranges and plateaus of Santa Cruz, arid, and scorched, and dusty, rising almost precipitously from the forests of Leon, and falling again in terrific ridges and chasms into the northern province of San Juan, the eastern slopes falling into the sea as we had seen at Los Angelos. The mineral wealth--copper, gold, and silver--of the Republic was in these mountains, and they absolutely cut off the southern province of Leon from any communication with the northern province of San Juan. There were mountain paths and dangerous mule-tracks, but what I mean is that no armies could possibly assist each other across them, and old Canilla could sit up in Santa Cruz, at the top of his mountain, and jolly well choose his own time to crush any rising in the provinces spread out at his feet, and, so long as his Navy was loyal, could prevent any insurgents from one province getting to the other by sea.

However, there was one thing 'up against' the President. The province of San Juan bred all the cattle and live-stock of the Republic, and he was obliged to keep a big army down in the northern plains to guard them. Once the insurgents got the upper hand in San Juan he would have to depend entirely on importing cattle from the neighbouring Republics or from Prince Rupert's Island--not so much to feed his troops, but Santa Cruz itself.

Now you will have a rough idea how the land lay, and can understand that, so long as his Navy was loyal to him and prevented the two insurgent provinces on either side of him from combining, the President would be cock of the walk.

That was the opinion of nearly every one in Princes' Town, and, though they all favoured the insurgents and wanted them to win, they'd shake their heads and say that old Gerald's chances were pretty bad.