Somewhat reassured, the President of Baracoa made preparations to receive the visiting warship with fitting honors, and the guns of El Torro fortress thundered a vociferous welcome as the big gray ironclad steamed up the bay.
The Camera Chap was cruising in the harbor in his motor boat when the Kearsarge arrived. With keen interest he watched the colossal fighting machine come to anchor. A thrill of joy and pride shot through him as his eyes feasted on her grim gray outline, and there came to his ears the strains of the ship’s band crashing out “The Star-spangled Banner.”
Remembering his conversation with the president, in which the latter had given him clearly to understand that, win or lose, he could expect no help from the United States government, he felt that he had no reason to believe that the arrival of the battleship had anything to do with himself and his mission; yet he could not help hoping that such was the case—that something had occurred to change the presidential mind as to the impossibility of governmental succor being extended to him. Not that he craved such protection for himself; he was quite willing to take his chances, and abide by the consequences of the adventure; but he was in hopes that the arrival of the Kearsarge at Puerto Cabero might have something to do with a plan to protect Felix from Portiforo’s vengeance. This desire caused him to seek admission to the battleship almost as soon as she had dropped anchor.
As he climbed the starboard gangway, a natty young officer stared hard at him, and exclaimed:
“I beg your pardon, but isn’t your name Hawley?”
“It is,” the Camera Chap replied, with a smile. “And you are Ensign Ridder, unless I am very much mistaken.”
“Lieutenant Ridder,” the other corrected pleasantly, with some pride. “But I was an ensign the last time we met. That was three years ago, when I was attached to the Brooklyn Navy Yard.” His face broke into a broad grin. “I shall never forget, old man, how you came to my rescue that night down in Chinatown, when that gang had me backed up against the wall, and was——” He stopped short, suddenly realizing that this was scarcely the time or place to indulge in personal reminiscences. “I beg your pardon,” he said soberly. “Perhaps you wish to see somebody on board?”
“I’d like to have a talk with the captain, if he isn’t too busy,” the Camera Chap answered.
“He’s pretty busy, but I think he’ll see you,” said Lieutenant Ridder, emphasizing the pronoun. “As a matter of fact,” he added, “he’s expecting you.”
“Expecting me!” Hawley echoed, thrilling with joy as he realized the significance of this announcement.