"I should like to get a shot at him," said Jack, grimly; "the brute. I shall never forgive him for his treachery. Well, who knows?—
Perhaps a recruit
May chance to shoot
Great General Bonaparte."
"What say you?" asked Rafael, puzzled at those lines, which were recited in English.
"Nothing, nothing. A something to relieve my feelings. Is that boat never going to be ready?"
"It is ready now," said the young man, gaily; "in with you, mi amigo! Row to The Iturbide Benito! So—give way, men!"
The oars dipped into the water as the sun arose in the east, and the boat shot away from The Montezuma over a flood of gold. Rafael was in great spirits, and chatted gaily all the time; but Jack, thinking of the peril of the proposed expedition, was graver. Besides, he was anxious about the safety of Philip and Tim.
"By the way," said Rafael, suddenly, "Don Pedro did not return with us last night."
"No; Pedraza asked him to sleep on board The Iturbide. See, there he is, looking over the bulwarks. I can tell him by the flash of the sun on his spectacles!"