Frank quickly entered the pilot house. Here a dark-faced, middle-aged man handled the wheel. Frank immediately noticed that he was listening to what the gold braided officer ashore was shouting angrily. He also looked a bit troubled.
"What does he say, Felipe?" demanded the young aviator.
"He commands us to return, señor," replied the other.
"Well, pay no attention to him, Felipe. We have complied with all the regulations and red tape necessary. The American consul will back us up. It is your business to simply steer this boat up the river until we arrive at Magangue."
"Si, señor. But when I return they will surely make the trouble for me," replied the pilot, shrugging his narrow shoulders.
"Not at all, Felipe," declared Frank. "You can swear that we made you do as we wished; that you dared not turn back, since your life was in danger. We stand ready to shoulder all the blame there is."
The dusky face of the old river pilot, whom they had fortunately run across in Maracaibo, became wreathed in a smile.
"Perhaps the young señor would not mind showing the Capitan?" he suggested.
Frank grasped his meaning; and pretending to scowl darkly, he drew out the revolver which Colonel Josiah had made him promise to carry while down in this explosive country.
"Now, Felipe," he said, as he clapped the weapon deliberately against the head of the pilot, "your gay Capitan can easily see what I am doing, and will understand what it means. You keep right on up-river; and if you dare disobey it will be bad for you, Felipe!"