“Ah,” cried the President, catching at the skipper’s arm and gripping it fast as he pointed to the open window with his sword. “Brave words, my friend, but you hear— you hear—” and another murmur of despair ran through the crowd.
“Oh yes,” said the skipper, “I can hear.”
“The cries,” said the President, “of the savage enemy.”
“No,” roared the skipper with a mocking laugh. “Your enemies, man, can’t cheer like that,” and he rushed to the window. “There they go again. Why, Don, that’s not a Spanish but good old English shout. Yes, there they go again. I don’t know what it means, but I can hear, far off as they are, those were the voices of some of my crew.”
“What?” cried the President.
“Come here, all of you,” cried the captain, “and look out. There’s nothing to fear. Follow my lead and give another cheer back. That shouting came from the gunboat deck. Look, Don Ramon, you can see my fellows waving their caps, and those two boys are busy on the bridge doing something, I can’t make out what. Yes, I can, they’re bending on a flag. There: up it goes. Why, gentlemen, we have been scaring ourselves at a puff of powder smoke. Why, by all that’s wonderful—” He stopped short and held up his hand.
“Silence, please,” he cried after a pause, and a dead stillness reigned once more as every one who could get a glimpse of the gunboat strained his neck to stare.
“I am stunned, confused,” whispered the President. “What is it, captain? For pity’s sake speak.”
“No, sir, I’ll let your best friend do that.”
“My best friend? You speak in riddles.”