“I was determined that there must be no bloodshed. I had no doubt that Jacob had been conspiring against the Venezuelan government and had been betrayed by ‘La Fouchère.’ I am averse to killing people, Doctor; moreover, I am a Christian and believe in God, and I try to keep the ten commandments. In spite of the hazardous character of many of my expeditions you would be surprised to learn how very few men I have been obliged to kill or have killed, and the memory of these unfortunate affairs is attended with regret, but no remorse.
“While I was vexedly working at this problem I heard the blare of a discordant bugle and a clatter on the pavement of the square, and, looking over my shoulder, saw a company of dusty soldiers stacking their arms in front of the café. They appeared to be mostly Venezuelans. They promptly swarmed into the café, and I arose and strolled over in that direction. The lieutenant in command was a short, fat young fellow, and as I drew near he said a few words to his sergeant and then left his company and walked over toward the café of the bathhouse. I followed him indolently, and as he entered the building I took a chair on the verandah and called for spirits and cigars. As I was lighting one of the latter my lieutenant came out, glanced at me inquiringly, then seated himself at a table. A moment later some tourists from the Dutch ship, killing time as best they might, strolled up, and to these I bowed casually as to acquaintances of the voyage. They did not know me, of course, but they returned my bow, called for beer, drank it and strolled on. As they were leaving I remarked in English to one of them, apparently an American:
“‘The ship does not sail until night, does she?’
“‘Not until one o’clock,’ he replied, agreeably, no doubt taking me for a passenger from Porto Cabello.
“For awhile we sat in silence; then my lieutenant, who evidently found himself greatly bored, turned to me and said, in fair English:
“‘You are a tourist, sir?’
“‘Yes,’ said I, ‘and much regretting that this is the last which I shall see of Venezuela for many months.’ There promised to be some truth in the last part of this statement, Doctor.
“‘You enjoy Venezuela?’ inquired the officer, evidently pleased.
“‘I have conceived a great admiration for the people and the country,’ said I.
“We talked for some time of the beauties of Caracas, he apparently enjoying the unaccustomed exercise of his English. I extolled the country, the people, their traditions, their bravery, likening their history to that of the United States, Bolivar to George Washington. He expanded like a flower in the sunshine. Presently I asked the honor of drinking a bottle of champagne with him, to which he agreed, remarking that Americans were to him the most delightful of all foreigners. Before long I asked him if his military duties confined him to Porto Cabello. He sighed deeply.