Not quite, but the next evening the gunboat was well out in deep water, comparatively undamaged, and flying Don Ramon’s colours, making her way towards Velova Bay, towing a whole regiment of boats, the Teal proudly leading under easy sail.
Chapter Fifty Seven.
A Startler.
“Ah,” said Don Ramon to the skipper, the morning after their arrival, “if only that gun were perfect!”
“Well, it ought to be in two months’ time. You’ll have to get command of the telegraph at San Cristobal.”
“To get command?” cried the Don. “I have full command. Resistance to my rule is dead, and I have only to wait to be acknowledged by the Powers. But go on with what you were saying.”
“Oh, it was only this. You can wire to the makers of the gun to send you out a new breech-block by the first steamer. They will honour your order, I’ll be bound.”
“It shall be done,” said Don Ramon eagerly.