They drove now through some narrow streets, past various native cafés half open to the air, where the habitués were beginning to collect, through a picturesque gate in the old city wall, and out on the Boulevard, which was now filled with people driving and walking. It was a gay scene, and reminded Cleary of some of the cities of the Mediterranean which he had visited.
"They're not quite as much like Apaches as I expected," said Sam, and neither of his friends ventured to respond.
"We haven't got time to go out to where the ships are sunk," said Foster, "but if we drive up that hill and get out and walk up a little farther we can see them in the distance. I've got my glasses with me."
In a few minutes they were at this point of vantage in a sort of unfrequented public park, and the three men took turns in looking at the distant wrecks through the captain's field-glass.
"It was a great victory, wasn't it?" said Sam.
"Well, perhaps it was," answered Foster; "but the fact is, that those old boats could hardly float and their guns couldn't reach our ships. We just took our time and blew them up and set them on fire, and the crews were roasted or drowned, that was all there was of it. I don't think much of naval men anyway, to tell the truth. They don't compare with the army. They're always running their ships aground if there's any ground to run into."
"Anyhow, if it had been a strong fleet we'd have wiped it out just the same, wouldn't we?" said Sam.
"Undoubtedly," said Foster. "It's a pity, tho, that the fight didn't test our naval armaments better. It didn't prove anything. If we'd only used our torpedo-boats, and they'd got out their torpedo-boat destroyers, and then we'd had some torpedo-boat-destroyer destroyers, and——"
"Yes," interrupted Cleary, "it is a pity."
"But it wasn't Admiral Hercules's fault," said Sam. "His glory ought to be just as great."