“Oh well, maybe they’ll be caught, and we can force Bernardo to make a confession and free Uncle Phil,” went on Frank, more hopefully. But Ned shook his head. He did not have much faith.
“Are we to stay on shore longer?” asked Frank of their lieutenant, as the boys and the rest of their squad went back to the coffee warehouse.
“I don’t know. I am waiting for orders. I think we’ll go back, though.”
And a little later word to this effect was sent to them. Those who had borne the brunt of the fighting were ordered back to the Georgetown, while fresh men replaced them as a guard to American interests on shore.
“I guess they want to give the other fellows a chance to have some of the honor and glory,” said Hank Dell, as our friends were on their way to the battleship.
But there was no more fighting that night. Matters were quiet in the capital, though rumors came in of little skirmishes in the outlying districts. The backbone of the revolution seemed to have been broken.
Frank and Ned felt very badly about the loss of the tin box. They felt more sure every hour that it contained just the evidence needed to free their uncle. But the box, at the bottom of the bay, seemed gone beyond hope of recovery.
“Of course Uncle Phil may get out, eventually, anyhow,” suggested Ned, “but I want to see him out now.”
“So do I,” chimed in Frank.
Affairs began to straighten themselves out in the little republic that had gone through such strenuous times. The American and other merchants made preparations to resume their interrupted businesses. For a time it was thought that Bernardo would be caught, but he appeared to have made good his escape.