"Why, well. What did the consul promise to do? And, if he promised anything, why isn't he along with you to do something? You don't want to have Matt spend the night in the war ship's bally old brig, do you?"
"I had hard luck," said Glennie disappointedly. "The American consul has taken a horseback ride into the country and won't be back for a week. He left his affairs in the hands of the German consul."
"Keelhaul me!" growled Dick. "That's just what I was told at the British vice-consul's. That's all we have here now is a vice-consul. He left his business with the German consul, too. I wonder if those two fellows went into the country together?"
"More than likely," was the gloomy response. "What are we to do now?"
"Call on the Dutchman. I'd rather be flogged than do it, for Carl's about the only Dutchman I ever saw who was worth knowing. But I'll go, if it's going to help Matt."
"Let's hunt up some one to tell us where the German lives."
Having agreed on their course, the two boys set off to follow it. A sailor gave them their directions, from which it appeared that the consul they were looking for lived on the other side of the city, not far from the shore. As the easiest way of reaching his house, Dick and Glennie returned to the wharf and followed it for a short distance. It had been their original intention to keep along the wharf until they reached a point opposite the square of houses containing the German's residence, but something occurred to interfere with their designs.
Just as they were abreast of the spot where the Chilian war ship was anchored, they heard a splash of oars.
"A boat's coming ashore," said Dick. "Let's draw back and watch. If the captain's in the boat we'll tackle him and make him tell us something about Matt. It's no more than fair that we should be told what Matt's been arrested for."
"Quite right," agreed Glennie. "Here's a good place to wait, Ferral."