“You first, General,” he said bowing to the leader who had surrendered.
Holding back, he sullenly asked:
“Why should I go aboard your vessel?”
“In accordance with the rules of civilized warfare, of which, of course, you know nothing. For the first time in your life you will be among gentlemen, and, therefore, need feel no fear.”
With ill grace, the Dictator stepped carefully down and seated himself at the bow of the smaller boat.
“And now myself,” was the good natured remark of the American, as he lightly followed. It was a trying moment, for he half expected a shot in the back, even though it would have meant the death of General Yozarro and the destruction of the tugboat. Captain Ortega must have feared something of the kind, for he stepped to the edge of the upper deck, leaned forward with his revolver grasped and kept a keen watch upon every man. It is not impossible that his vigilance averted a tragedy.
With the same even stroke, the small boat was rowed across the brief, intervening space, and the mate, Dick Horton, reached down, took the hand of the General and gave so lusty a pull that he stumbled forward and barely saved himself from sprawling on his hands and knees. The next instant Jack sprang among his friends, who crowded around, grasped his hands and showered him with congratulations.
During the flurry, Aunt Cynthia and Miss Starland had been kept beyond reach of harm, but they were now among the group that welcomed the owner of the pretty craft.
“Had you wished to give them the safest place,” said he, “you should have let them stand at the bow in plain sight.”
“Only the fear of a possible accident prevented that being done,” replied the mate.