The necessary formalities of port inspection had been gone through with, and the ship was in a gala attire aloft and alow in anticipation of the visit always paid an American vessel by the youth and beauty of quaint old Lisbon.
Boats filled with merry parties were coming from the dock even now, and the appearance of many pretty girls in them was beginning to take the cadets’ attention away from a previous attraction.
That attraction was the diving of a number of native boys after coins thrown from the ship. Alongside were half a dozen small and rickety boats occupied by the agile young divers.
They were continually importuning the cadets to toss bits of silver or copper money into the water.
One, a lithe, clean-limbed lad of about sixteen, was the leader of the party, and it was his clever diving which had wrung the words of admiration from Trolley, given at the commencement of this chapter.
The diversion of watching the divers began to grow monotonous after a while.
“The little beggars are pretty good, but their act palls on one,” yawned Toggles, stretching his arms.
“Did you hear anything about the liberty list, Clif?” asked Grat Wallace, with a yearning glance ashore.
“It isn’t made up yet, I believe. We won’t touch the dock until afternoon anyway.”