“Well, sir,” broke out Stanley finally, “so far as we’re concerned——”
“You see,” went on the middy, interrupting, “we’ve got to stick aboard here till this captain gets ready to put about for Boca del Sierras. He’s obstinate, and a fighter from ’way back—you can see that in his eye. Now, here’s the proposition. If we get licked at Santa Anna we’ll all go to the bottom together. That chap would sink his ship before he’d be captured. On the other hand, if we win out we’ll help to smash the insurgents, do our country a good turn, and, at the same time, insure our getting back to the ship.”
Looked at in this light, the thing which they all secretly wished to do became of necessity the logical, right thing to go forward with. So they all agreed, after some more discussion. It now only remained for the captain to give his consent to having his gunners drilled and officered by the Americans. The task of asking him this was taken out of their hands. On his return from forward, the tall, Quixotic-looking officer, after some humming and hawing, turned to the middy.
“I have a great favor to ask of you, sir,” he began. “My men—that is——”
“You want us to show them how to handle the guns!” burst out Midshipman Stark.
“Yes. But how did you guess it? I——”
“That is all right, sir, we’ll begin at once.”
“What, at once! Ah! I forgot you are American, and do not wait for to-morrow. Well, gentlemen, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I——”
“Oh, never mind that, sir. If we don’t teach your men how to stick by the guns, we’ll never see the United States again, anyhow. Now, then, Stanley, I’ll appoint you in command of the gun deck, with full charge. Strong and Taylor, you are on an equal footing with Stanley, but obey his orders.”