"See here, Twickenham, you're a civilian, and have no stomach for fighting, and not to blame either; but Fairbanks is a fighting machine. It's his business to shoot and be shot at. Sentiment is out of place in a commander of a fleet. A plague on him! Barcelo flips a few birdshot out of a brace or two of pill boxes. The British nation bows. Well, you saw the farce this morning. By Jove! I'll have Fairbanks before the high court, to answer for his work—or lack of it." Farquharson was now nervously stepping up and down the room.
"I've had my signal-fires on the hills since noon, asking the Admiral to meet me. I want it to be on land, or anywhere off his ships. On neutral ground I'm free to call his conduct by the name it deserves. England has suffered humiliation to-day, and all because of him! The dolt!"
"I thought the ship would begin bombardment at once. I don't mind confessing that 'twas a dread time as far as I was concerned."
"Begin bombardment!" Farquharson paused in his walk. "Why didn't he blast the old fort into nothingness, and California would be ours. I'll wake him when I meet him."
"Hold on, Captain! If that blasting process of yours had gone on, we, personally, wouldn't possess California, or anything else, now."
"O, Twickenham! Well, you're not a fighting man. Besides, Admiral Fairbanks didn't know we were in the castle. Furthermore, there was safety enough in the subways, if we had minded to go there."
Again he threw himself into a chair, and began fuming anew. "Now, there's Señora Valentino! She left Europe, and all that this meant to the woman she is. She has come to this out-of-the-way place—worked hard! and conscientiously! And for what? By the way, the señora should be here. She sent word she's heard something important. She's five minutes overdue as it is."
"That clock is fast, Captain."
Farquharson looked at his watch. "Only two minutes fast." He was on his feet again. "What can have kept her!"
"O, sit down, Farquharson. Let's talk over this matter."