“You are the young Chilian naval officer who was in charge of the torpedo-boat which destroyed three of our ships the night before last, are you not?”
Jim replied that he was.
“Well,” resumed Villavicencio, “you will be sorry, I am sure, to hear that all your comrades were drowned when the Janequeo—that was the name of the boat, I believe—went down. You are the sole survivor. By the way, how many men had you with you?”
“There were eighteen of us altogether,” replied Douglas.
The skipper made a brief note on the paper before him and then remarked softly, “H’m, it is a pity that they were all drowned. I should have much liked to have saved a few more of them.”
Although there was absolutely no fault to be found with the sentiment expressed by the captain, Jim felt instinctively that the words possessed a double meaning, and he shivered in spite of the heat of the morning, which was already becoming excessive.
“What is your name, young man?” was the next question, and upon Jim answering, his reply was noted down by his interrogator upon the paper before him. Just as he had finished writing a thought seemed to strike him suddenly and he looked up quickly from the sheet.
“Were you ever on board the Chilian cruiser Angamos?” he inquired, still in the same low and even tones, but with a curious new thrill in his voice.
“Yes,” replied Jim, looking him straight in the face, “I had the honour to command that ship upon the occasion when she encountered the Union in the Straits of Magellan. If I remember rightly, the Union did not stay to finish our little encounter.”
“Ah–h–h,” breathed Villavicencio, through his teeth, “so you were the man in command of the cruiser. I thought you might be when I heard your name, but you struck me as being rather young for the post. By the way, how old are you?”