mmodore seems a mighty proud sort
of fellow, and when he sees only our small brig he'll not be inclined to
accede to Mr Murray's demand, I've a notion," said Desmond.

"Then I'll just give him a hint, my boy, that he may chance to receive a
visit from the rest of the squadron," answered Higson. "Those sort of
fellows are apt to bluster and boast, and, like mongrels, bark loud
enough when they see another cur run from them, but they seldom dare to
bite when they are attacked."

"The corvette, however, carries sixteen guns, though I cannot say how
she is manned," observed Desmond.

"She may carry twenty guns for what I care," answered Higson, laughing.
"The question is, how will they be fought? Our Long Tom will be a match
for all of them, depend on that. We shall do our best to get ahead or
astern of her, where her shot will find it difficult to reach us."

"But then there is the brig, and there are two or three schooners in
addition," observed Desmond. "Though we don't see them as they are some
way up the harbour, they're sure to come down to help their consort."

"We must settle her first, and then tackle them," said Higson. "It is
probable, however, that the commodore will knock under, and not give us
the opportunity of showing what we can do."

"I would rather see Miss O'Regan, and Rogers, and Gordon, with the old
colonel safe first," said Desmond. "I am afraid that the commodore will
be ill-treating them in revenge should we give his vessels a drubbing.
The consul seems somewhat of a slow coach, or he would have found out
what had happened long ago, and applied for our liberation." The breeze
carried the boat which was standing in under sail swiftly on.

"She's a fine craft, and has eight guns on a side," observed Higson, as
they got close to the corvette.

The sail was lowered, and a voice hailed in Spanish to know what they
wanted. Higson, who guessed the meaning of the hail, standing up,
pointed to the British ensign astern, and said that he had despatches to
deliver. No rope was however hove to them, nor was the side manned; so,
followed by Desmond and Needham in no very dignified fashion, he
scrambled on board.

"There's the commodore," said Desmond, pointing to a middle-aged,
gaunt-looking Don who was walking the deck with his cocked hat stuck
ferociously on one side, "and that fat officer is our friend the first
lieutenant. If they don't know how to be civil, we'll show them," and
stepping