"The scoundrels!" he ejaculated. "Why don't they shell those
insurgents? They could end this promptly if they wished to. I shall
have something pleasant to say to them and to Senor Gaspard of the
Marine when I see him. Still, perhaps they are waiting for me.
President Rodriguez expects us."
Mollified at this thought, Mr. Howland straightened to a dignified and
commanding posture. The honors accorded an arriving Howland vessel
were the honors accorded a United States warship, and he scanned the
fleet eagerly for the first sign of the invariable welcome. He turned
to Dan.
"Better dive into your cabin, Captain, and get on your double-breasted
regalia," he said. "There will be a round of diplomatic calls and
felicitations generally--and of course they will ask for wine; for of
all half-starved, thirsty natives, give me those of this bob-tailed
republic."
The fighting had evidently stopped for the night, and Mr. Howland waved
his hand at the flag-ship. He dearly loved all the punctilio of
international etiquette and the deference that had ever been his
portion in San Blanco.
And so this captain of industry smiled and hearkened for the first gun
of the expected salute. But it did not come. There was silence
somewhat grim and certainly sullen. He ground his teeth impatiently,
angry disappointment growing as they drew near the fleet.
Pages:
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121