Exclamations of surprise broke from the other midshipmen as Stephen made these statements in very broken Spanish. He was questioned over and over again by them to make sure that they had not misunderstood him.
“You seem to think it terrible,” Stephen said; “but you don’t stand on rank yourselves when you fight. When you board an enemy’s ship you fight with a sailor who attacks you, and don’t stop to discuss with him whether he is one of gentle blood, like yourself, or a mere peasant. For the time being you put yourself on an equality with him, and it is a pure matter of strength and skill. It is just the same with us in most matters. We stand on our rank the same as you do, but when our blood is up we put all that aside and fight without caring whether our opponent is a nobleman or a peasant, and when it is all over we shake hands and don’t feel that there is any bad blood between us.”
CHAPTER X.
WRECKED.
On the fifth morning when the ships got up anchor there were no signs of movement on board the Chacabuco, nor was any attention paid to the admiral’s signals.
“Mr. Embleton, take one of the gigs, row on board, and report what is the matter there.”
Stephen did so. The approach of the boat was apparently unobserved, and the companion-ladder was not lowered. He therefore ordered the men to cease rowing; presently an officer appeared at the side.
“The admiral wishes to know what is the matter, and why you do not obey his signals,” Stephen said sharply, standing up in the stern-sheets.
“The crew are in a state of mutiny,” the officer said, “and they refuse to get up the anchor.”