“If Captain Cortrell is there. I must see him immediately.”
The officer replied that she would find the commanding officer in his cabin, and a few minutes later Virginia was speeding over the water toward the big gray fighter. As she reached the warship’s side and stepped to the main deck her hopes suddenly soared. The sight of the guns protruding from the grim turrets, and the sturdy, white-jacketed boys from her own land swarming over the decks, was decidedly reassuring. Somehow, in spite of what her father had said, she could not believe that the ruler of a “fussy little banana republic”—as she was wont to refer contemptuously to Baracoa—would dare to go to extreme lengths with a citizen of a country powerful enough to own such engines of destruction as this.
When the officer of the deck learned her identity he conducted her at once to the commanding officer’s cabin. Captain Cortrell had already met her at the embassy when he had called there to pay his respects to her father. The smile which came now to his weather-beaten countenance betokened how delighted he was to renew the acquaintance; for grim old sea dog though he was, he was always glad to see a pretty face aboard his vessel, especially when that pretty face belonged to one of his own countrywomen. His smile abruptly disappeared, however, when he learned the object of Virginia’s visit, and he shook his grizzled head sadly.
“I regret to say, Miss Throgmorton, that I am powerless to do anything. I sympathize greatly with Mr. Hawley, and, unofficially, would do anything in my power to help him, but you must realize that officially my hands are tied.”
“I don’t realize anything of the sort!” Virginia cried impetuously. “If you were to go to Portiforo and tell him that unless he releases your countryman immediately the Kearsarge’s guns will wipe Baracoa off the map, I am confident that he would be impressed.”
Captain Cortrell received this suggestion with a laugh, but that the girl had struck a responsive chord within him was evident by the glint which came to his eyes. “I don’t mind admitting that such a step is exactly the one I’d like to take,” he confided to her. “But, of course, it is quite out of the question. You must see that. Your father is in command of the situation here. I could not presume to go over the head of the United States minister.”
“This is no time for red tape,” the girl protested. “What does it matter whose head you go over when the life of a brave man is in danger?” Her voice suddenly became softly coaxing. “I feel sure you, too, are a brave man, Captain Cortrell. Why not take the chance? Other American commanders have taken chances.”
The naval officer cut her short with another laugh. “I hate to forfeit your good opinion, Miss Throgmorton,” he said dryly, “but I am afraid I can’t let you tempt me to be guilty of such a gross breach of discipline. Why not try that line of argument on your father?” he suggested. “I will promise you this much—if you can persuade him to make a formal request to me to take steps to bring about Mr. Hawley’s release, I will proceed to take whatever action may be necessary, immediately, without waiting to hear from Washington.”
Virginia shook her head. “I know my father’s disposition too well to have any hope of being able to change his mind once it is made up,” she said. Then, suddenly her face brightened. “Well, anyway, I suppose it won’t do any harm to try,” she exclaimed. Without telling Captain Cortrell of the new idea which had come to her, she hurried from the warship and back to San Cristobal.