“‘Let’s get out of this, bo’s’n. Can’t we spend the night up yonder among the hills and palm trees?’
“‘Yes,’ the good fellow answered, cheerily. ‘And luckily the wind’s about a N.N.E.’
“We didn’t leave the city empty-handed, though. One hotel was doing a roaring trade, and when we found ourselves, an hour before sunset, high up among the woods, we had enough of the good things of this life to have stood a five days’ siege.
“Perhaps we didn’t make a hearty supper! Oh no, sailor-men never eat and drink!
“We had some wine anyhow, for our stomachs’ sake, let me say, and to eliminate the perfume of sweet Santiago, which seemed still to hang around us.
“The sunset was ineffably beautiful, the clouds and the bay were streaked with the colours of tropical birds; of those very birds that sang their evening songs above us, while the breeze sighed through the foliage.
“Twilight does not last long here, however, but a big round moon rose slowly over the hills, and there would be neither darkness nor danger to-night.
“‘I say, bo’s’n,’ I cried, ‘you were in the Merrimac with gallant Hobson. Tell us your version. Have another cigar, and another glass of wine. Keeps away infection, you know.’
“The bo’s’n needed no second bidding. He had a bo’s’n’s nip—four fingers high—and the wine was brandy too.
“‘Ahem! Yes, I was in the Merrimac, and so was Jack Hardy, here.’