By ten o'clock the sounds of battle had swelled to a deeper, steadier roar, and refugees arriving brought various and fragmentary stories of the fighting. From this hodge-podge of misinformation, however, Webster decided that Ricardo's troops were forcing the issue with vim and determination, and since the most furious fighting was now well in toward the heart of the city, it seemed reasonable to presume the struggle was for possession of the arsenal and palace.
At noon the deep diapason of conflict began to slacken; by one o'clock it had dwindled considerably, and at two o'clock Webster, gazing anxiously cityward, observed Leber's launch coming rapidly out from shore. At the wheel stood Don Juan Cafetéro; as the launch shot in under the vessel's side he looked up, searching for Webster's face among the curious throng that lined the rail.
“Faugh-a-ballagh!” he shrieked. “We've got the divils cornered now. 'Twill be over two hours hince.”
“Who has won?” a voice called, and another, evidently a humourist and a shrewd judge of human nature, replied: “Why ask foolish questions? The rebels, of course. That fellow's Irish and the Irish are born rebels. Look at the scoundrel. He's black with gun-grease and burned powder where he isn't red with blood. The butcher!”
Don Juan tied up the launch at the gangway and leaped up the ladder, three steps at a time. “Glory be to God,” he panted and hurled himself into Webster's arms. “I was in it! I was. I got back in time to catch up wit' the lads at the warehouse an' they were the fine, fightin' divils, I'll gamble you. Och, 'twas a grrand bit av a fight—whilst it lasted. They put me in the motor-thruck, loadin' the belts wit' ca'tridges as fast as the gunners imptied thim, but faith they couldn't keep me there. I got into the heart av the scrimmage in the yard av the arsenal an' faith 'twas well for that little Docthor Pacheco I did. 'Twas wurrk to me likin'. I'd a machete——”
“You bloodthirsty scoundrel!” Webster shook the war-mad son of Erin. “I told you not to mix in it, but to hang around on the fringe of the fight, and bring us early news. Suppose you'd been killed? Who would have come for us then? Didn't I tell you we had a dinner engagement in the palace?”
“Me on the fringes av a fight,” sputtered Don Juan, amazed and outraged. “Take shame for yerself, sor. There was niver the likes av me hung around the fringes av a fight, an' well ye know it.”
“I'm amazed that you even remembered your instructions,” Webster rasped at him.
“Sure, our division had cl'aned up nicely an' I had nothin' else to do, God bless ye. They were besiegin' the palace whin I left, an' small chance av takin' it for a couple av hours; what fightin' there was on the outside was shtreet shootin'—an' not to me likin'.”