"She is a beauty, Roderic."
"Don't doubt it in the least, else you would never have fancied her."
"She is called the Dreadnaught."
"Phew! a genuine English name. Of course you will change it to the Mayflower or Pilgrim or some strictly Yankee cognomen?"
"At present I must decline to do so, as she sails with an English crew and under the flag of Great Britain."
Owen looked puzzled, and then smiled.
"Oh! I see, a ruse de guerre. Very good, indeed. The Dreadnaught she shall remain as long as our war with Spain continues. Well, are you off for a delightful voyage along the Mediterranean, or perhaps, seeing it is summer, to the North Cape, the Land of the Midnight Sun. Jove! at another time I might be tempted to join you—that is providing I were invited."
"I extend a most pressing invitation and expect you to accept and be our compagnon de voyage."
"Alas! my duty lies amid sterner scenes."
"In ten days you can be landed on the shore of Porto Rico."