“An idea, my dear young friend!” cried the President.
“Yes, sir; a mere trifle.”
“A trifle!” said the President. “Oh, how lightly you English boys do take such things. Your trifle, as you call it, has made me fast in the Governmental chair. I shall always think that I owe you my success.”
“What, because I thought there was another breech-block, sir?”
“Oh, not merely that. There was your first idea about getting away from the hacienda and coming round here by sea. They may seem trifles to your young elastic spirit, but their effect has been great.”
“Once more, sir; please don’t say any more. My only wonder is now, that somebody else on board the gunboat did not think about the spare block and get it into use.”
“Ah, yes; one of the officers has been talking to me about it. He said he was the only man on board who knew of its existence, and—simply because it had not been wanted—he had almost forgotten, or, as he put it, it was for the time driven out of his head by the great trouble they were in, caused by the fouling of the screw, and the current carrying them on to the rocks.”
“Oh, I am glad of that,” said Fitz. “Glad? Why?” said the President, looking at him wonderingly.
“Because it makes Poole Reed stand out so much better than I do. It was entirely his notion to foul the screw.”
“Oh, come, come, come!” cried Don Ramon. “I am not going to weigh you both in the balance to see which was the better. I shall always look upon you as a pair of young heroes.”