The two boys felt a deep sympathy for Captain Garcia. They saw in him a man of a thousand, differing materially from the majority of his race. Honorable, brave and loyal, he was ready to die for his cause. Believing he was sailing toward his death, they had known him for over twenty-four hours and had not, until this minute, heard one word of complaint.
The sound of many people talking loudly, with excited cries and exclamations, struck upon their ears.
The captain’s grave face turned a shade paler.
“What is that?” he cried.
Phil knew immediately that O’Neil’s strategy was bearing fruit.
“Let’s see,” he proposed, advancing to the hatchway.
They descended the ladder and stood in astonishment at the sight presented.
O’Neil had indeed succeeded. He had placed a crew at one of the six-inch guns and was making the men go through the drill in American style. The native sailors were laughing with excitement. They were as happy as if they were playing at some athletic game.
Phil glanced anxiously at Captain Garcia. The latter’s face had dropped its careworn expression. His eyes brightened.
“Ah, if I had a crew like that man,” he sighed.