"Now is my chance," thought Hal. "By riding hard I ought to be there in time to join any landing-party that may be sent ashore. They have chosen Daiquiri."
He jumped into his saddle again and cantered off. An hour later he rode boldly down to the shore, to a point from which a small pier projected. A party of American marines had just landed, and Hal found himself at once a prisoner amongst friends.
"Why, who aer this? Come off that 'ere moke!" cried one of the marines, grasping his bridle. "You must be the durndest fool as ever wur, or perhaps you're what's wuss, and that's a cove what goes back on his pards."
"I am nothing of the sort," Hal answered, with a laugh. "I am British born, and American just now for choice. You would do me a great favor if you would drop the point of that bayonet, my friend."
"Wall, that kind er knocks me all ter pieces!" the marine answered, starting back in astonishment, while a roar of laughter burst from his comrades. "A Britisher, and no durned son of a Don after all! At any rate, hop off it right away, and come along slippy. You may be a pard, as yer say; but then yer mayn't. Ef it aer that sort er way, it'll be a case with yer."
He took Hal by the sleeve, and conducted him to the officer in charge of the party, where explanations were soon made and accepted.
"Where are you going now?" the officer asked. "I presume you've come here on purpose?"
"Yes; I wish to get aboard the flagship," Hal answered. "I was there before, and, in fact, only left a week ago, when I managed to get ashore."
"Ah, you did? Then come along right here, sir, and tell us how the Dons are doin'. Then, if you wish it, I'll send you aboard the admiral's ship. But if you'll take my advice, you'll remain with us. We're the advance landing-party."
"I will with pleasure," Hal replied; "and if you wish it, will act as guide."