“Great Britain will scarcely be willing to protect a vessel which, under the shelter of her flag, is engaged in succouring those who are rebelling against the rule of a friendly nation!” remarked the officer. “And, in any case, we are prepared to take the consequences of our acts. We know this so-called yacht to be a smuggler of contraband of war, and we intend to seize her.”
“What if I were to tell you that we have not an ounce of contraband of war on board?” enquired Milsom.
“My captain would simply not believe you, Señor,” answered the Spaniard. “You will therefore be pleased to regard this vessel as a prize, and yourselves as prisoners!” and he stepped quickly to the gangway and called to the armed crew of the boat to come out of her. As he did so, Milsom put a whistle to his lips and blew a short, shrill blast. There instantly followed a rush of bare feet along the deck; and as the Spaniards passed in through the yacht’s gangway they found themselves confronted with some thirty stalwart British seamen, with drawn cutlasses in their hands and revolvers in their belts.
“Caramba! What does this mean, Señor?” demanded the Spanish lieutenant, starting back in dismay at this unexpected dénouement.
“It means just this, Señor Teniente,” answered Milsom; “we don’t intend to stand any nonsense of any description. You go back to your ship and tell your captain that, since somebody seems to have sent him out on a fool’s errand, my owner here, Señor Don John Singleton, will—purely as an act of courtesy, mind you—permit him, or you, to search this ship from stem to stern and from keel to truck, in order that you may thoroughly satisfy yourselves that we have no contraband, whether of war or otherwise, on board. But there will be no seizure of this ship; understand that! Such an act would be an outrage to our flag; and, as you may see, we are both ready and willing to resist it! Also, you will please tell your captain that we demand an ample apology for his high-handed behaviour in daring to fire upon us.”
“Carrajo! Señor, those are very big words; and you ought to be perfectly certain of yourself before you use them. They are offensive, sir; and a Spanish officer allows no one to use such words to him with impunity!” exclaimed the Spaniard.
“Sir,” retorted Milsom, “the behaviour of your captain in firing upon this yacht was offensive; and he will find that he cannot treat Englishmen in that fashion with impunity. There is a right and a wrong way of doing these things, and your captain has chosen the wrong way; he will therefore be made to suffer for it.”
“We shall see, Señor Englishman; we shall see,” returned the Spaniard. “Then, am I to understand that you refuse to surrender your ship?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Milsom; “that is precisely what I wish you to understand. And I wish you to understand, further, that if you dare to attempt force, I will treat you as a pirate, and sink you, despite your flag. You see that I have the means and the power to carry out my threat—” waving his hand first towards the guns and then towards his men.
“Very well, Señor,” answered the Spaniard, livid with rage at being thus hectored before his own men, “I will tell my captain what you say; and it will be for him to decide how he will deal with you. If it rested with me, I would blow your ship out of the water. And I shall remember your face, Señor; and it may be that some day we shall meet on shore.”