“Think of it, Syd. If I want to get under way all I have to do is to tell the machinist to get up steam and off we go. It’s like having your own yacht,” Phil exclaimed contentedly, leaning back luxuriantly in his chair and cocking his feet up comfortably on the rail. “Let me see,” he added banteringly, “I am the captain; you are the executive officer, navigator, ordnance officer, all the watch officers and the chief engineer. Don’t you feel heavy with all those titles?”
Sydney smiled happily. “Well, if the ‘old man’ doesn’t expect too much of a poor midshipman, I’ll do my best to uphold the dignity of them all,” he replied.
After they had settled themselves in their new homes and had inspected every foot of the clean, trim little craft, admired the powerful battery of six long three-pounder guns, with auxiliaries of two one-pounders and a much sinned-against Colt gun, they started over the gangway bent upon paying their respects to the general commanding the troops in the military district of Kapay.
It was with a decided feeling of uneasiness that Phil sent his card by the orderly to the general. He knew that Captain Blynn had before this given his superior officer a full account of his expedition and he felt sure that the escape of Martinez with his consequent blame had not been forgotten in the telling. However, his high spirits could not be easily dampened by even these sinister thoughts. His greatest ambition had been achieved. Was he not the commander of an American man-of-war? He was not even under the command of that awe-inspiring figure he could see dimly at the desk, on whose shoulders the direction of an army rested.
In spite of this feeling of independence the lad’s pulse beat faster as the orderly beckoned him to enter the general’s office.
A short, sharp-featured officer, whose hair and beard were as white as his spotless clothes, arose from his chair and gave a welcoming hand to the visitors in turn, inviting them in silence to be seated.
Phil fidgeted restlessly in his chair, while the general paced slowly toward the open window and back again to his desk. Phil was on the point of speaking several times, but each time he waited, seeing in the army man’s face that he was about to speak.
“Captain Blynn has made his report,” came in metallic tones from the old campaigner, “and I am deeply distressed to hear that you, Captain Perry, deliberately allowed a prisoner to escape; one whom above all I wished to lay my hands on. Blynn is for asking the admiral to court-martial you at once; but I am sure you must have some good reason for your action.”
He ended and glanced questioningly at the abashed Phil.
“My reason was,” the lad blurted out, his feelings much hurt at the severe arraignment, “that in order to capture Colonel Martinez, I would have had to kill him in cold blood. I couldn’t bring myself to do it for he had behaved handsomely toward us while we were his prisoners.”