With a flash of his former determination Walter flung back: "Thank you, sir, but if I don't go ashore and try my luck, I shall feel like a yellow pup, whipped before I start."
At the boyish bravado of this speech Captain Bradshaw replied, with an air of fatherly pride:
"I should think less of you if you decided to stick in the ship, my lad. But if you find yourself flying distress signals, you are welcome to work your passage home with me."
Walter nodded and swallowed hard. He saw that if he whimpered or hung back he would lose the respect of this indomitable old sea-dog. Homesickness afflicted him for the first time, and now and then he regretted having met the persuasive Jack Devlin.
Perhaps because he was unhappy himself Walter felt sympathy for the young man from the republic of Colombia whose name was on the passenger list as Señor Fernandez Garcia Alfaro. He had often lingered near the forecastle, as if disliking the company of his fellow-voyagers, and seemed to enjoy chatting with Walter, who found him rather puzzling. The South-American temperament was new to the sturdy young Anglo-Saxon from Wolverton, who had been trained to hide his feelings.
Señor Fernandez Garcia Alfaro wore his emotions on his sleeve. He was easily excited and his outbursts of temper seemed childish, although he had been to school and college in the United States and was now in the diplomatic service of Colombia, attached to the legation at Washington. To Walter he seemed much younger than his years. He had found much to annoy him during the voyage of the Saragossa, but Walter refused to take his troubles seriously until matters suddenly came to a head.
It was early in the morning, and Walter had finished his share of washing down decks under the critical eye of the Norwegian boatswain. Alfaro came out of his state-room and paced the wide promenade. His demeanor was cheerful and he appeared to have forgotten his irritation.
As he halted to greet Walter, there came from an open window near by the harsh, screaming accents of a parrot which cried jeeringly:
"Viva Roosevelt! Viva Panama! Pobre Colombia! Pobre Colombia! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Fernandez Garcia Alfaro spun round to glare at the disreputable bunch of green feathers which, from its gilded cage, continued to cackle its sentiments concerning "Poor Colombia" with diabolical energy. The young man's black eyes flashed astonishing wrath and hatred, and Walter Goodwin, watching the tableau with a perplexed air, said laughingly: