“A man of his unnatural talents and intriguing nature soon finds but little scope for himself in the service, where all are poor but honorable,” he answered. “No doubt he has contemplated leaving the service and the fear of detection, therefore, has no influence with him. As for dismissal, that would be out of the question; the crime of which we know he is guilty would be nearly impossible to prove before a naval court martial. Our evidence is only hearsay, and might not convict him.”
“Our evidence,” Sydney commenced; then the life died out of his voice as he added, “we may never be able to give it.”
The failing light of day, entering the solitary window above their heads, soon left the prisoners in darkness. The lamp used by their guards outside their cell door shed a faint glimmer through the cracks of the stout oaken panel.
The terrible mental strain which the Americans were enduring gave them scant desire to sleep, and as they tossed restlessly on the damp floor of their cell their predicament gradually dawned upon them with startling force.
O’Neil alone was cheerful; his indomitable spirit saved the lads from sinking too deep in the slough of despond.
Phil lay awake long after his companions had forgotten their troubles in sleep. The bitter thought of failure was even keener to him than the dread of death. The watch-word of his profession was “death with honor.” Why should he fear to die in his country’s service? It was the end that all true naval men sought. Yet, it was hard to die so young and when there was so much to live for. Then the thought of his two companions filled his cup of sorrow brimful. He cried out against a fate so cruel. If they all could but die fighting, but to be shot down by these miserable half-civilized soldiers, as they might shoot so many dogs, was more than his youthful spirit could bear. He dropped off finally into a profound sleep, and when he awakened the next morning, he found the door of their cell open and the guards ready to take them before the military tribunal.
Hands bound behind their backs, they were marched through the streets of the town. The natives taunted them with vile epithets, but kept themselves at a distance, for which favor the captives were grateful.
After a short march they were led into a courtroom. Here they were unbound and told roughly to sit down.
A few moments elapsed, then three officers, led by Colonel Juarez, appeared and took seats at a table in front of the Americans.
The room was empty save for the court, the guard and the prisoners.