“I should like to give you a more encouraging reply,” he said, “but—Oh, here’s Don Ramon. Let’s hear what he says.”
“Ah, my friend,” cried the Don, coming up to grasp the speaker’s hands effusively. “And you too, my brave lads, as you English people say. It has been magnificent,” and as he shook the boys’ hands in turn, Fitz flushed vividly, feeling guilty in the extreme. “Oh, it has been magnificent—grand! Captain Reed, if I can only persuade you to join hands with me here with your men, and make me succeed, I would make you Admiral of my Fleet. Ah, yes, you smile. I know that it would only be a fleet of one, and not that till the gunboat was taken and become my own, but I would not be long before I made it two, and I would work until I made our republic one of which you would be proud.”
“Don’t let’s talk about this, sir,” said the skipper quietly, “until we have gained the day. Do you think that the enemy will come on again?”
“The wretches, yes! But Villarayo—the coward!—will keep watching from the rear. He seems to lead a charmed life.”
“There, my lads; you hear. But we shall drive them back again, President?”
Don Ramon’s eyes flashed at the compliment, and then he shrugged his shoulders and said sadly—
“President! Not yet, my brave captain. There is much yet to do, and fate has been bearing very hard upon me lately.”
“It has, sir. But about the enemy; you think they will come on again?”
“Yes, for certain—and go back again like beaten curs. You and your men have done wonders here in strengthening this place.”
Poole drove his elbow into the ribs of Chips, and winked at Fitz, who could hardly contain his countenance at the carpenter’s peculiar looks, for the big rough sailor seemed as bashful as a girl, and nodded and gesticulated at the lads in turn, while the next moment he looked as if about to bolt, for the skipper suddenly clapped him on the shoulder and exclaimed as he turned him round—