“The declaration isn’t everything,” replied the señor. “If there has been any fighting at all, American cruisers have a right, after that, to question ships bound for a hostile port, and to stop and seize all contraband of war. After goods are once seized, it isn’t easy to get them back again.”
“Sail ho!” came down from aloft at that moment.
“Where away?” called back the captain.
“Northerly, sir. Looks like a shark, sir.”
“Can you make out her flag?” was inquired, almost anxiously.
The man on the lookout plied his telescope a full half-minute before he responded:
“Stars and Stripes, sir. Sloop-o’-war, sir. She’s changin’ her course, and she’s makin’ for us, I reckon.”
“Let her head!” growled the captain. “This bark’ll bear more sail. Hoist away there, men. Let her have it! Señor, there’s one thing I’ll do right off. It may be our best chance if she should overhaul us.”
He did not explain his meaning just then, but another sail went up and something else came down. In a few minutes more, when Ned came on deck again, he suddenly felt worse than ever. Not long before, when the sun was rising, he had been on an American ship, with the flag of his country flying above him, but now his first glance aloft drew from him a loud exclamation, for he found that while below he had apparently been turned into an Englishman, and away up yonder the gale was playing with the Red Cross banner of the British Empire. He stared at it for a moment, and then he made an excited rush for Señor Zuroaga. He might have reached him sooner, but for a lurch of the Goshawk, which sent him sprawling full length upon the deck. It did not hurt him much, however, and as soon as he was on his feet, he blurted out, angrily:
“Señor! I say! Do you see that? What does it mean?”