A young officer, wearing the somewhat gaudy naval uniform of Costaveza, and bedizened with a pair of huge gold epaulets, approached them.
“He looks like a bandmaster,” whispered Herc, in spite of Ned’s warning to keep quiet.
The officer bowed civilly and asked in that tongue if any of them spoke Spanish. Receiving an affirmative reply from Midshipman Stark, their new-found friend requested them to step aft. He led them to the small bridge on the conning tower, on which stood a tall, thin South American, with a pair of field glasses in his hand. His bronzed face was thrown into vivid relief by a pair of bristling white moustachios. In his faded uniform, very different from the brilliant trappings of his young officers, Captain Gomez looked every inch the sea fighter as he stood on his little bridge. He seemed as calm and self-possessed as if he were gazing at the affair as a safely situated spectator. By his side stood an officer peering into the range-finder and handling the gun controls.
Captain Gomez turned to a sailor, who stood at his elbow, as he noticed the Americans being piloted aft, and gave an order. The man’s hand shoved over the lever of the engine-room telegraph to “speed ahead.” At once the General Barrill began to forge through the water, pointing her nose to the north.
The fort fired viciously after her, but the range was lost, and their shells simply blew holes in the water.
The commander, his work for the moment over, greeted the newcomers cordially.
“We were on our way up the coast,” he explained after he had heard their story, “and, seeing signs of an insurgent battery ashore there, we decided to give the crew a little gun practice.”
“Of which they don’t seem to stand much in need,” smiled the midshipman.
The captain looked grave, but said nothing more for the moment. He ushered the castaways into his cabin and ordered refreshments for them. In the meantime he had flung open a cabin door and indicated a bathroom and some spare uniforms, which looked very inviting to the adventurers. When they emerged in their regalia, a decided improvement had taken place for the better in their appearance, though, to tell the truth, not all of the uniforms were a very correct fit.
A white-coated man, evidently a surgeon, entered the main cabin as they emerged from the bathroom. He spoke a few words to the captain, who crossed himself and muttered some words. His face had grown grave. Evidently what he had just heard was of a disquieting nature. He looked up as his guests filed in.