Had Dick Hardy landed at the flat rock where the eddy swept in under the Lion’s paws, he might have seen the footprint of a man, with a straw slipper in it; and following the track a few yards farther, he would have passed his sword through a villain lying bleeding in a mangrove thicket; and found, too, in his belt, snugly stowed away, a lot of gleaming jewels, with a sapphire gem of priceless value on the finger of his bloody hand. But never mind, Hardy! You will hear more of that man one of these days, and you will have no cause for regrets––though he will, perhaps; and, meanwhile, let him wander in quest of fresh villainies over Spanish South America.
“Well, gentlemen,” resumed Commodore Cleveland, “although I have doubts whether the mangled carcass we saw in the sail was the captain of that notorious ‘Centipede,’ yet I felt confident at the time, and do now, that it was scarcely possible for him or a man of his crew to have escaped our fire and the water and rocks combined. So that evening, when the land-wind made, we tripped anchor and sailed away from the coast of Darien.”
“Come, my friends,” said Piron, in a low, tremulous voice, rising as he spoke, “we must not push Cleveland too far to-night, for it is getting late, you know, and they keep early hours on board men-of-war.”
“No hurry, Piron! I’ll talk to you all night, if you have the patience to listen to me. No? Then I’ll have the boat manned.” He touched a bell-rope which hung over his head, and the cabin door opened. “Orderly, my compliments to the officer of the watch, and desire him to call away the barge.”
While some of the gentlemen in the forward cabin left the table, and stood about in groups chatting till the boat was reported, Piron put his arm around the commodore’s belt, and they moved aft into the starboard stateroom. Little Mouse was lying sound asleep on 230 the elegant cot, with all his clothes on, but with a smile on his lips, and dreaming, maybe, of the dear widowed mother he would one of those days make proud of him.
“Cleveland, my old friend, tell me more of that young Darcantel!”
“Hist! Piron, don’t wake little Tiny! There’s nothing to tell more than he is my adopted nephew, and the son of the gentleman who occupies that stateroom opposite. But when we go out to Escondido I’ll tell you about his father, who has led a very adventurous life.”
“Well, good-night! You will bring young Darcantel with you, and this little rogue, too, here in the cot. My wife and her sister will be delighted to see you all. Good-night!”
As the “Monongahela’s” bell struck eight for midnight, the commodore’s guests got in the barge and pulled toward the shore.
At the same time, a light gig, with handsome Harry Darcantel, went alongside the “Rosalie,” and Commodore Cleveland turned into his friend’s cot opposite, leaving small Mr. Mouse to sleep his dream out till morning; while, as the barge ran up to the landing at Kingston Harbor, and a gold ounce was slipped into the old coxswain’s honest paw, what did they all think about? Good-night!