Juan reluctantly consented. A bustling steward soon had the table spread with hearty food.
Hal ate a hearty meal. Ramirez fed like one famished.
“Bah!” uttered the Cuban, rising in disgust at last. “I have made such a wolf of myself that I am not fit to walk. But to you, captain, I offer a thousand thanks for your hospitality, and a thousand apologies for the spectacle I have made of myself.”
“I shall hold together until to-morrow,” murmured Hal, rising with a satisfied air. “Captain, my most earnest thanks.”
Now the bustling steward came back with two parcels of food which he helped the young men to stow away under their jackets.
Captain Blodgett, hearty, if somewhat taciturn, followed them to the deck, slipping into Hal’s hand a receipt for the money, which he undertook to forward to its destination.
“The best of good luck, lads,” came in an earnest whisper from the English captain, as he offered each a hand at the same time.
They stepped ashore, Ramirez acting as guide.
Of all that followed, during the next two hours, Hal had, at the end of that time, only the vague recollection that follows a dream.
But they reached the southern outskirts of Havana without mishap; they trudged along a dusty country road, dodging behind trees or into the brush whenever Ramirez’s acute hearing warned them of the presence or approach of military.