“Oh,” said Fitz. “I never heard of it before. Is there a British Consul there?”
“Oh, I don’t know. There generally is one everywhere. I think there used to be before Don Villarayo upset the Government and got himself made President.”
“And is it to him that you are taking out field-guns and ammunition?”
“I never said we were taking out field-guns and ammunition,” said Poole innocently. “There’s nothing of that sort down in the bills of lading—only Birmingham hardware. Oh no, it is not for him. It is for another Don who is opening a new shop there in opposition to Villarayo, and from what I heard he is going to do the best trade.”
“What’s the good of your talking all this rubbish to me? Of course I know what it all means.”
“That’s right. I supposed you did know something about it, or else your skipper would not have sent you to try and capture our Birmingham goods.”
“Birmingham goods!” cried Fitz. “Fire-arms, you mean.”
“To be sure, yes,” said Poole. “I forgot them. There are a lot of fireworks ready for a big celebration when the new Don opens his shop!”
“Bah!” cried Fitz contemptuously; and then after a few moments’ thought, “Well,” he said shortly, “I suppose I shall have to do it. I can’t stop always in this stuffy cabin. It will make me ill again; and I may just as well face it out now as at some other time.”
“Just,” said Poole, “only I am afraid you will be disappointed, for you will find nothing to face.”