“Yes, they are smart picked men of course,” said Fitz.
“That’s so, sir. What do you think they would say to these tan-leather-coloured ragged Jacks, if they went up and offered to take the shilling?”
“Well, they wouldn’t take many of them, I think,” replied the middy.
“Take many of them, sir? I seem to see one of the sergeants now. He’d hold that little walking-stick of his with both hands tight and close up under his left arm, stand werry stiff, and drop his head a little on one side as he looked down at them; and then he’d give a sniff, and that would be all.”
But Don Ramon did not despise his followers. He was bustling about among them, addressing and exhorting and working them up to a tremendous pitch of excitement, making them shout and cheer till they were hoarse. Then they swarmed into the rigging and clustered in the shrouds, to wave their rifles and hats at the crowd gathering upon the shore and cheering shrilly in reply, the men’s voices being mingled with those of women and children, who seemed to be welcoming them as their deliverers.
“Well, it’s all right, Don Ramon,” said the skipper, who was standing by Burgess busily conning the schooner as she glided in now towards the shore.
“Yes,” cried the Don proudly; “it is what you call all right. You see there will be no fighting now.”
Bang! went a gun from the fort, and the lads started as they gazed at the grey ball of smoke which began to turn golden as it rose in the air.
“They’re reckoning without the fort,” said Fitz excitedly, as he strained his eyes in vain for the ball which he expected to see come skipping over the smooth water.
“Yes,” said Poole.—“No: it was a blank. Look, they are hauling down the flag. Oh, it’s all right. A regular walk-over. Three cheers for Don Ramon!”