“Now,” said the skipper quietly, “we must leave the succour of the wounded to Ramon’s own people. I am sick of all this. Let’s get back on board the schooner.”
It was about an hour afterwards that Poole went to his father on the deck of the Teal.
“Oughtn’t we to have stopped a little longer,” he said, “and tried to be of some help?”
“I should have liked to, my boy,” said the skipper sadly, “but I didn’t want you and young Burnett to see what was bound to follow. The rougher portion of Don Ramon’s followers have not the same ideas of mercy to a fallen enemy that belong to a European mind, and so I came away.”
Chapter Thirty Seven.
Political questions.
Happily for them, the boys saw little more of the horrors of the petty war. Aboard the schooner what met their eyes were the triumphs of peace. The next day flags were flying, bells ringing, guns firing, and the whole of the inhabitants of the town were marching in procession and shouting Vivas.
Crowds gathered upon the shore nearest to where the schooner was moored, to shout themselves hoarse; and not content with this, they crowded into boats to row out round the little English vessel and shout themselves hoarser there, many of the boats containing women, who threw flowers which floated round.