It was a long and tedious journey down the road to Los Angelos, because at many places barricades, thrown up to prevent Gerald's troops advancing, were being lazily pulled down, and the litter on the road made it impossible to get along quickly.
However, I did not want to be caught in the dark, so we made our horses hurry whenever the road made it possible, and we managed to reach Los Angelos in two hours and a half. One of the boats belonging to the Santa Cruz flagship happened to be waiting alongside the wharf; the 'Gnome' said something to the coxswain, and off I went in her, in great style, to the Hercules. Good little 'Gnome,' he was pretty well worn out by the time I wished him good-bye, and he went away with our two horses.
CHAPTER XVII
The Ex-policeman
Written by Sub-Lieutenant William Wilson, R.N.
As you can imagine, I wasn't half pleased to get back to the Hercules, and there I had to wait, not a soul being allowed ashore, for a whole week. We heard that order was being maintained in Santa Cruz, and as this was the chief thing Gerald worried about, I was very glad indeed. I never told you that, directly the English and United States Governments had recognised the insurgents, Canilla had sent every foreign Minister, except Mr. Arnstein, and every European merchant, out of the country. Now, however, they all came back from Princes' Town, and things seemed to be settling down peaceably, just as peaceably, indeed, as after a General Election and a change of Government at home. Canilla and a very small number of officials, who'd made themselves too obnoxious to stay, simply disappeared, finding their way down to some village farther along the coast, and taking refuge on board a Colombian gun-boat which happened to be there. No one seemed to worry about him or them—not in the least.
Then came a formal invitation for the Captain and Officers of H.M.S. Hercules to attend the inauguration of the new Government. There was to be a triumphal entry of the former insurgent army into Santa Cruz, a full dress ceremony in the old cathedral, and a banquet afterwards at the palace. What made me so pleased was that they'd sent me a separate invitation, in recognition of my 'services to the Republic of Santa Cruz.' Just think of that! I've got the card now with a great spidery signature—Alvarez de Costa—across the bottom of it.
Captain Roger Hill couldn't possibly refuse to let me go, although I'm certain he would have done so if he could.
Gerald sent me a note telling me to meet him at the Club, and Mr. Macdonald, who had turned up again from Princes' Town, drove Ginger and Cousin Bob and myself up to Santa Cruz, just as he had done before.
We had to go in uniform, 'whites' with swords, and as mine was an old-fashioned helmet, which came down well over my eyes and the back of my neck, it hid my hair. The result was that hardly any one noticed me or mistook me for Gerald, though, wherever we went, there were shouts of 'Viva los Inglesas!' from the crowds in the streets and at the windows. The English were tremendously popular, chiefly on account of Gerald, so Mr. Macdonald told us. 'Look up there!' he called out, as we came in sight of San Sebastian, and we saw that the slopes of the mountains, below and above it, were simply swarming with Gerald's little brown men in their white shirts.