Their story was now quite well known, and some of their comrades received permission to use nets, dragging them on the bottom of the bay, in the hope of bringing up the box. Ned helped, and so did Frank when his leg healed, which it did in about ten days. But the efforts were fruitless.
“Well, we leave here to-morrow,” said Frank one day, as he and his brother were taking their ease on deck, having just finished their tour of duty.
“Yes, it’s been a great time while it lasted, but I do wish we had some good news to take back North to Uncle Phil.”
“So do I.”
The battleship was soon to leave. Matters in Uridio had now quieted down, and the government had the situation well in hand. Every promise was made that the rights of the Americans would be respected, and they were to be given adequate sums for the damage caused to their property by the rebels. The stronghold of the latter had literally been blown to bits by the big guns of the Georgetown.
Shortly after reveille one morning word was given to hoist the anchors. A parting salute had been fired as a compliment to the Uridian flag. It was answered from a small land battery. The one cruiser owned by the rebels had not been seen since the Georgetown had pursued her.
What had become of her was not learned until later, when it was discovered that her commander had been told of the collapse of the revolution, and had discreetly remained away. Later he took service with the government and turned his craft over to the authorities, so unless she has sunk, or tried to fight some other vessel out of her class, the little war craft may yet be doing duty for Uridio.
“Well, it’s good-bye to Uridio,” remarked Ned, as he looked landward.
“That’s what it is,” answered Frank.
“I wonder if we will ever see this place again?”